Heart of the Matter
by QLTales
Summary: Sequel to Catch and Release - Sam and Al are still trying to come to terms with the events in Idaho.
1. Chapter 1

**Heart of the Matter**

_**QL Tales (Asearcher and Dulcinea1969)**_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction. _

**Chapter 1**

The Indian summer sun was low over the mountains as Sam drove towards Socorro. He was still breaking in his new Jeep and had taken to doing the driving in the last several weeks. Al had the window down and his arm on the ledge. "You know, Sam? It's times like this that I really love New Mexico."

"Yeah, I guess it's pretty nice. I've got to admit, I still miss being home this time of year."

"I guess," Al commented. "I don't know what you saw in Indiana though. It was just way too flat for my taste." Once when Sam had given a seminar at Purdue, they'd driven by Elk Ridge.

"It's where I grew up. If you spent anytime there, you'd appreciate it." Sam pulled the Jeep into the parking lot of their favorite Chinese food restaurant, the Hungry Dragon. "You wanna run in and get dinner?" They'd called ahead and now just needed to pick up their meal.

"Yeah. Sure," Al said, getting out of the vehicle. "It's better I go anyway. Last time you forget to check to see if they had put in the Chinese mustard."

"That was over a year ago. Aren't you ever going to let that go?" Sam asked the question while laughing. "How about when you didn't check to see if they'd put any packets of soy sauce, huh? You haven't cornered the market on perfect yet."

"Never said I did. But you keep that bottle of soy sauce in your fridge. Missing that wasn't as bad," Al shot back before going into the restaurant. The two men were planning on working on an idea Sam had about a better layout for the OC and hence the takeout.

Al greeted the young man behind the counter. "Hey Juan." The boy was the son of the owners. His father was Chinese and his mother was Mexican. "How are your Mom and Dad?"

"They're good, Al. Dad just brought your order up." The young man pulled a brown bag from under the counter. "He said to tell you he put extra mustard and soy sauce in there."

Laughing, Al shook his head, thinking of the conversation he'd just had with Sam. "I guess we've asked for those more than most." Pulling out his credit card, he handed it to the kid. "You sent in your application to MIT, right? Sam and I weren't kidding that we'd give you a good reference."

"I appreciate that, I really do. I haven't made a final decision yet." Juan ran the credit card through and handed it to Al. "Hang on a sec. I almost forgot Mom said to make sure you got some of these the next time you came in." He reached into a box under the counter and pulled out a handful of plastic wrapped fortune cookies. Unlike the run of the mill cookie, these were chocolate. He opened the bag and dropped them in. "She said you and Sam would probably like them."

"She's so good to us!" Al answered, eyeing the cookies. "Thank her for us." He finished the transaction, leaving a tip for the kid. "That's for your college fund, wherever you go, Juan." He picked up the brown bag.

"Thanks, Al and say hi to Sam."

"Will do," Al answered has he pushed open the door with his elbow. A moment later he was getting back into the car. "You won't believe what Consuela gave us.

"Chopsticks?" Sam hazarded as he started the Jeep and pulled out of the parking space. He couldn't fathom what else it could be.

"I'm sure she put those in too," Al agreed. "But no." When Sam gave him a look that said he had no idea, Al grinned widely and told him. "Chocolate fortune cookies!"

"Chocolate? Really? I didn't think they made those." Sam didn't bother to point out that he wasn't really worried about whether there were chopsticks or not. Despite the many times the older man had tried to teach him how to use them, he still ended up either chasing his food around the plate or, if he did manage to get any with the chopsticks, he ended up wearing it. He planned on sticking with a basic fork.

"I didn't know they made them either." Al sighed. "If Consuela wasn't already married..." he started.

"Isn't five enough, Al. Do you have to marry every female that comes your way? I would have thought that by now you'd be tired of paying alimony." Sam looked over to his friend briefly, a curious smile on his face. "How many checks do you send out a month?"

"Four but it's not that bad, Sam. It's not like I'm broke or anything."

"Printing press or goose?" When Al looked at him strangely, Sam clarified the question. "Do you have a printing press for the money or a goose that lays golden eggs?"

"Neither," answered Al, drily. "I just have made some very good investments at what turned out to be the right times."

"Well, you keep adding to those monthly checks and it's not going to matter what kind of investments you make." Sam pulled into a parking space in front of a small grocery store. "I don't think I have any soda at home. You got any requests?"

"I could drink a root beer." Al answered in response to Sam's question.

"Ok. You want anything else?"

"Get some of the little crunchy things I like." Sam's eyebrows went up as if asking Al to be more specific. "You know. You bought them when we went to see Farkel when he arrived. The ones in the black bag."

Sam mouthed the description Al gave him a few times. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he finally confessed. "Crunchy things in a black bag?"

"Yeah. Some kind of white cheese or something. Some type of corn puff I think."

"Sorry," Sam said with a shrug. "I don't remember what it was. You know I like to try different snacks. Wanna come in with me?"

"Yeah, sure." Al undid his seatbelt and got out. "You know? Your eidetic memory sure is selective sometimes."

Sam let out a long-suffering sigh. "I keep telling you, it doesn't work like that. It's not like I remember every single little thing in life." He started walking toward the store with quick, aggravated steps. "I keep telling you but you don't seem to listen. I'm not some kind of a machine that just records everything. I'm only human, you know."

"Geez, Sam. I didn't mean anything by it." Al rushed after Sam and grabbed him by the elbow stopping him. "I know you're only human. It's just that you really liked them too. I figured you'd remember the name of them, that's all."

Sam pulled his elbow from his friend's grasp and continued to the store. "Have you ever noticed how many snack foods I eat?" As they entered the store he picked up one of the small, plastic baskets. "I think you're the one who said I never met a potato chip I didn't like."

"You've got a point," Al said quickly. He looked around at the store. "Listen. You get the sodas. I'll get the snacks and we'll meet back at the front, ok?"

"Ok sounds good." As the two men started to walk in different directions, Sam stopped and called back to Al. "Grab some microwave popcorn. I feel like having some tonight."

"Ok, Kid. You've got it," Al called back. When they met at the counter, Al was holding his White Cheddar Cheese puffs, Sam's popcorn, a bag of blue corn tortilla chips, and a can of Pringles.

"And you talk about how much junk food I get," Sam pointed out when he saw Al's selections then emptied his basket on the conveyor. As he did, he realized that Al could say the same about him. In addition to the bottles of soda, there was also a half gallon of ice cream, and a Pepperidge Farm chocolate layer cake. "You know I always want something sweet after I eat Chinese," he defended. As he put the last two items down, a quart of low fat milk and box of Cheerios, he pointed out how they were healthy.

"Sure, Sam," Al said with a laugh. You keep telling yourself that.

Al's laugh was infectious and Sam joined him, agreeing that was the case. They quickly finished their shopping trip and were soon back on the road. Once at the house, the two had their dinner, followed by chocolate fortune cookies which both seemed to enjoy.

Afterwards, Sam pulled the blueprints out of the locked file cabinet in his office. They had them spread out on the kitchen table and had been working on them for about thirty minutes when the phone rang.

Aggravated to be pulled away from his work for what he just knew would be a telemarketer, Sam got up to answer the phone. After saying hello, he mostly just listened to the person on the other end for the next few minutes of the conversation. He went from being slightly irked about being pulled away from his work to being on edge. In answer to what the person on the other said, he answered, "Um, ok. I'll have to think about that and I'll get back to you. Thanks for calling." Without saying goodbye, he numbly hung up the phone then slowly turned to face Al. "That was the DA's office."

Al had looked up at Sam not long after he'd picked up the phone and watched his body language change. "What did they have to say?" He was concerned about the way Sam's voice was stressed.

"Harry's dead," Sam said simply. "He got killed in some fight or something." He slowly walked back to the table and sank down to the chair he'd been sitting on. "He said Ted's changing his plea to guilty so there's not going to be a trial but he still wants us to make a statement at the sentencing."

Al blinked. "Harry's dead?" He wasn't really surprised. The nozzle was the type that wasn't long for the world. He'd just hoped his end would be due to the gears of justice and not some random act of violence. Hearing what Sam's said about the man's brother, he nodded. "Well at least someone will pay for all that suffering."

"What?" Sam couldn't believe what he heard or how callous it sounded. "Is that all you care about? Revenge?"

"I'm just saying, Sam, that there should be some balance of justice here. You haven't forgotten, I'm sure, that Ted wasn't exactly doing anyone any favors. He certainly didn't do anything to stop Harry. Not really."

"How many people have to die? How many lives have to be ruined for there to be a balance of justice? A life for a life isn't the answer."

"Listen, Sam. I didn't write the laws but I'll say this. The concept of facing justice goes back to the beginnings of human history. Ted was just as guilty as Harry for killing those people. They were both responsible for the death of the pilot. Just maybe if Ted had a backbone, Rick wouldn't have been killed. I say Idaho's getting a bargain with Ted pleading guilty."

"Well I guess they're getting that bargain without me," Sam stated making up his mind quickly. "This needs to end and it needs to end now. I can't and I won't relive all of that just to make someone else suffer."

Al was stunned. "What? You're just going to let all that go? Maybe you don't remember with that subjective memory of yours or maybe the drugs that made you a little caca might be at fault but I don't see how you can do that."

"Shut up," Sam growled. He was torn between being hurt by the words Al spoke and angry. His anger won out. "You have no right to say that. I'm not letting anything go. They don't need me to sentence him. He's pleading guilty and I'm not going to be a party to them making him pay any more than necessary. I won't let my words be used to give someone a death sentence. You know, that's what the DA said. The judge can still impose a death sentence. Am I supposed to be responsible for someone's death just to make you happy? Maybe you can live with that, but I can't."

"You wouldn't be responsible for that. Neither of us would be. The judge will make the ultimate decision but he has to hear from the victims to do it." Al tried to reason with his friend. "All the people they killed aren't able to speak. They were ready to kill both of us. Our words speak for those who can't."

"Yes, I would be responsible," Sam argued. "If my words lead a judge to make that decision, it's my responsibility." He got up and started to pace the kitchen. "Don't you see, Al? There have been too many deaths. How would another one benefit anyone? How many more people have to die before this all ends?" He stopped his pacing and leaned on the island that separated him from Al. "I won't do it. I don't care if I'm subpoenaed. No one can force me to say anything. It's ending right now tonight"

"You'd ignore a subpoena? Are you nuts?" The moment Al said the words he knew they were the wrong ones. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know you're not nuts but you do recall that we just got Weitzman's hornet's nest settled down. You get yourself arrested, I'm not sure I'll be able to do it again."

Sam took a step backwards blinking rapidly. Al's words had had the same effect as a slap in the face. When he'd recovered, he spoke in a very low voice. "Is that all you care about? Well I'm so sorry that I caused you trouble. I've given you plenty of outs so that I wouldn't be a problem for you and you chose not to take them. Thank you very much for letting me know just what you really think about me."

"Oh, come on, Sam. You know what I think about you. You're my best friend, for God's sake."

"Well you sure have a funny way of showing it. You know what I really think? I think all you've done is humor me just like everyone else so you could see me do my dumb pet tricks. I didn't I know I was so damned entertaining."

Al knew when Sam went off on a tangent, sometimes it could take awhile to get things back on track. Tonight's was a huge one. "Oh, yeah, Sam. I've put my ass on the line just to humor you."

At any other time, Sam might have recognized the sarcasm for what it was. Too much had piled on too quickly this evening, though, for him to be able to identify it. "You son of a bitch," he snarled, "I should have listened. I should have listened to everyone who warned me about you."

"Saamm..." Al started, cautiously. "You don't mean that."

Things were getting out of hand too quickly. Sam knew someone had to put a stop to this downward spiral but he seemed helpless to be the one. While his common sense was screaming at him to just shut up, if not apologize, his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. "I don't, huh? Just like you don't mean it every time you say I'm nuts? I'm not gonna be the one to roll over and play the contrite little boy."

Al pursed his lips. "This isn't getting us anywhere. I think it would be better to give us both a chance to calm down." Al didn't want to say it, but the thought that Sam could actually mean what he was saying bothered him greatly. "I think I'd better leave. I'll call you later."

"Oh yeah, sure, leave," Sam mocked. "That's what you do best. When the going gets tough, Calavicci leaves. Ever wonder why you've been divorced so many times?" Again Sam's common sense was screaming that he just shut up. Al was right; he didn't mean the smallest fraction of what he was saying. Al's words had cut deep coming on top of the phone call and right now he just wanted to lash out. "Go on and leave, you do it so well, but don't think I'm gonna hang around waiting to see if you ever come back. You really know how to keep your promises."

Al took a breath to answer Sam and stopped himself. He knew that with the words that were being thrown, it was only a matter of time before things escalated to a point where his own desire to lash out would take over and then, God help them both. "Yeah. I do but that's not important right now. Right now, I'm going to give us time to get back on keel." He figured that Sam's threats were just that. Give them a few hours and everything would be fine. "See you later."

Al turned and left the room. He was a little surprised when Sam didn't say anything but figured that maybe his buddy understood this time that they really did need time to calm down or things would really get out of control. He pulled out his keys and went out the door to where his car was parked.

"Screw you, Calavicci," Sam whispered when he heard the front door shut. He stayed standing in the same spot until he heard Al's car start up the drive away. "I don't need you. I've done just fine without anyone."

He moved over to the counter where the fishbowl was and picked up the can of fish food. As he started to drop some food in the bowl, he noticed its lone occupant was floating upside down. "Oh, George," he sighed sadly. "Not you too."

Turning from the bowl sadly, he walked away and into the living room. He just didn't have the heart to dispose of the fish right now. After all that had happened with Al, he felt like George was the only friend he had left and now he was gone too.

He wandered around the living room aimlessly trying to figure out how everything had gone to hell in a hand basket so fast. It was less than an hour ago he and Al were pouring over the blueprints for the IC, now he wasn't sure he'd ever see him again.

He slumped down on the couch trying to figure out what to do.

He lost track of time just sitting and thinking. The sound of the phone ringing pulled him from his thoughts and he noticed how dark it was in the room. He'd been thinking for quite a while. He had no interest in talking to anyone and let the phone ring until the answering machine picked it up.

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Al heard the ring tone. He made sure to call before Sam's normal bedtime so he could talk to him. Now the phone rang and rang until the answering machine picked it up. "Hi Sam. If you're there, pick up." He waited for a few moments to allow Sam to get to the phone. When he didn't, Al continued. "Ok. Maybe it's better we talk tomorrow if you're still upset. I'll call you in the morning. Night."

Al gave another few moments before putting the receiver down. He let out a breath. "I hate it when you get on a good stubborn, Kid." He got up from the couch and went to get ready for bed.

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When Sam heard Al's voice coming through the answering machine, he didn't pick it up. "Talk?" he questioned quietly to the disembodied voice. "Don't you mean tell me all the ways I'm wrong."

Once Al finished leaving the message, Sam grabbed the phone but it wasn't to call his friend back. He had to get away. Al wasn't the only one who could leave. He could do it too.

It didn't take long before he'd made his travel reservations and was out the door and on the way to the airport. He'd hinted to Al that he just might not be around when his friend came back. Well, he was going to carry through on the threat. It was time for the other man to know what it felt like when someone walked away.

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Bright and early the next morning, Al was awake and grabbing the phone. He'd had a restless night tossing and turning in and out of sleep. He was worried that things between him and Sam had gone too far the previous night. He hoped that his friend would talk with him when he called this time.

As with the night before the phone rang until the answering machine picked up. "Sam? Hey buddy, I know you've got to be up by now." He yawned then continued. "I still don't know why anyone would want to be up this early, but ok." He paused, hoping Sam would pick up the phone. "Ok. Maybe not. Give me a call when you are up. We need to talk." With that, he hung the phone up, and then curled back into his pillow to catch more sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Rain was slashing down and lightening split the sky as a cab pulled to a stop in the middle of the street. A lone figure emerged from the cab. After paying the driver and retrieving a suitcase from the trunk, the man continued, head tucked down against the rain, up the street to the home at the end of the cul de sac.

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It was getting late and Thelma was making sure all the windows and doors were secured before she turned in for the night. Katie and Jim had left that morning, taking baby Sarah with them, for a week at Disney Land in California. The storm had held off until after they'd departed but had been raging viciously all day.

She'd just finished making sure the front of the house was secure and was on her way to her bedroom when she heard a knock at the door. Hurrying over to it, she couldn't imagine who would be at the door at this time of night – especially since Jim and Katie were out of town.

Looking through the window beside the door, she was surprised when she recognized the wet, bedraggled figure standing outside, suitcase in hand. "Sam! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed as she pulled the door open.

"Hi, Mom," Sam simply said when he saw his mother on the other side of the door.

Thelma grasped her son's arm and drew him into the entryway. "You're soaked to the skin," she remarked getting a good look at him.

Sam gestured over his shoulder and up the street. "There's a tree down in the middle of the road. The cab couldn't get all the way up here so I had to walk."

Leaning around Sam, Thelma peered out the door and up the street to see what her son was talking about. She could just barely make out the tree he had mentioned through the driving rain. Closing the door, she looked at her son in concern. It wasn't like Sam to just show up without any kind of warning. "Let me get you some towels to dry off," she told him as she started to move away from him. Her curiosity regarding his sudden appearance would have to wait until his physical needs had been taken care of.

She returned moments later with several thick towels in her hands. Sam was still standing where she'd left him, dripping all over the entryway floor. He'd put his suitcase down beside him. "Start to dry off," she told him as she handed him the towels.

Sam rubbed one of the towels over his hair trying to pull some of the wetness out of it but didn't have much luck. "Take off that jacket," Thelma ordered. Once he had, she balled it up to take it back to the bathroom where she could hang it to drip.

Giving one more unsuccessful swipe to his hair with the towel, Sam toed off his shoes to leave by the door then picked up his suitcase and followed his mother deeper into the house. He met her in the hallway just as she was coming out of the guest bath. He followed her into the guestroom where she told him to strip out of the rest of his wet clothes. While he did, she opened his suitcase and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for him to put on. Up until now, Sam hadn't said anything beyond his greeting to his mother.

"What's wrong, Son. Why are you here?" Thelma asked in concern as she handed Sam the dry clothes.

"I just wanted to see you, Mom. Why does something have to be wrong?"

Thelma stood in front of her son, hands on her hips, and carefully appraised him. "I've know you since the day you were born, Sam. You don't just show up at my door without letting me know first unless there's something wrong." She sat next to him on the bed and rubbed his bare back, her voice softening. "What's wrong, Sammy? Please tell me."

Sam thought about everything that had happened in his life since the last time he'd seen his mother. He'd spoken with her on the phone many times but he'd kept the more worrisome parts of his life away from her. He wouldn't be able to keep on keeping secrets while he was in her presence. He chose the most innocuous of events to start with. "I got a letter from Donna a couple of months ago. She wanted me to know she got married."

The concern in Thelma's eyes grew, along with some agitation at hearing the name. "Did she now?"

"Don't get mad, Mom," Sam said on a sigh. "She didn't know I'd get upset."

"Well, she certainly wasn't one to ever think about how others would feel."

"Mom..." Sam rubbed his hands across his face. "I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget about it, ok." His voice grew a little sharper. "It's done and over with now."

Thelma put her hand out to cup his face. "No, Sam. It obviously had an effect on you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here now." She saw his eyes dart away and decided that maybe a cup of tea might make this conversation easier. "Let's go in the kitchen, Son. I'll fix you a cup of orange spice tea and we'll talk."

"Sure, Mom. Tea sounds good. I just...let me get dressed and I'll be right out."

"Ok, Sam. I'll go put the kettle on." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek before turning towards the kitchen.

Sam watched as his mother left the room then started to pull on dry clothes. He saw that he'd unconsciously packed the over-sized t-shirt and sweatpants that had originally been Al's. Sighing, he pulled them on then joined his mother in the kitchen.

Thelma looked up as Sam entered the kitchen. She had just put the cups down along with some toast, butter, and some jam she and Katie had put up earlier that fall. Seeing the clothes on her son she couldn't help but smile. "Land's sake, Sam. Those might be comfortable but aren't they a little big?"

"I...um...I packed it by mistake," he explained as he sat at the table. "You didn't have to do all this, Mom. Just tea would have been fine."

"It's not work, Sam. Besides, I know how you like my peach jam."

"I don't think jam's gonna do it this time, Mom."

Thelma's eyes reached out to him as she put her hand on his forearm. "What is it Sam. What's wrong?"

"Nothing...everything," Sam answered with a shake of his head.

Seeing her son in such pain tore at Thelma's heart. "Has something happened to the Admiral, Sam?"

"No, nothing's happened to him, Mom." It was a direct answer providing just the necessary information.

Since he'd been small, Thelma had been able to see when Sam wasn't being honest. Right now, he was but there was something there. Still, it wouldn't hurt to see if Sam's "everything" was true. "Then does this have to do with that project of yours?"

"Mom, I..." Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't want to talk about it right now, Mom, please." The teakettle started to whistle and he jumped up from the chair. "I'll get it."

Sighing she told him, "Ok Sam. I won't push you. It's just that when you show up on my doorstep drenched to the skin, I just want to make things better."

"I know, Mom and just being here with you helps a lot, really." He looked around the room noticing for the first time that the only person at home was his mother. "Where's Katie, Jim and the baby?"

"They went to Disneyland, Sam. Wanted a little time just to unwind."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot Katie mentioned that." Having poured the water into the cups, Sam returned the kettle to the stove and sat at the table again.

"You got the last pictures I sent you of little Sarah, didn't you. She's starting to pull herself up now. I'll bet she'll be walking by Christmas."

"Yeah, I got 'em." Sam laughed softly as he remembered the day after he got the pictures in the mail. "I was showing them to everyone at the project. They wanted to know if she was really my daughter since I had so many pictures of her."

"You'd make a good father, Sam."

Sam was afraid he knew where this conversation was leading and chose to cut it off before it could get started. "Not again, Mom. We've had this conversation before. If it's going to happen it will. Otherwise, it's fine."

"I know that," she said, giving him a smile. "I wasn't pushing, Sam. I was just stating a fact."

"You state it a lot, Mom. I'd just like to skip yet another listing of my shortcomings." He picked up the cup of tea taking a sip from it. "Al can do that for you," he grumbled as he put the cup back down.

Thelma caught the reference to her son's friend. Now she felt even more certain this surprise visit from him had something to do with the absent admiral. She decided to see if Sam was ready to talk about what was bothering him yet. "It sounds like you and Al haven't been seeing eye to eye."

"I guess that's one way to put it."

Putting her hand out to touch his, she asked gently, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Nothing to really talk about," Sam said as he toyed with the cup of tea.

"Sam. I'm your mother. I can see that there is something there. I just want to help."

"I know, Mom. I just...I don't even know if Al's my friend anymore," he confessed softly.

"You don't know?" Thelma was at a loss. Every time she'd ever seen the two of them, their deep friendship was evident. "That just doesn't seem possible."

"He wanted me to do something that goes against what I want and we both ended up saying stuff – not so nice stuff." Sam looked at his mother with sad eyes. "What if I've lost the best friend I could ever have? I'm still so angry with him but I'm so afraid of losing my friend."

Thinking of what her son told her, she considered her words before she answered, "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday. Last night. I just felt so alone that's why I came here."

Thelma let out a breath. "Is this the first time you've ever had this type of disagreement?"

Sam silently shook his head. "We've argued before but never like this. I don't know what to do, Mama."

"Well..." She paused. "Do you remember our neighbor, Thad Hysop?"

"Thad? What does he have to do with this?"

"You remember that he and your father were good friends?"

"Yeah, Mom, I know that," Sam said impatiently. "I don't why you're bringing him up, though." He got up from the table and walked over to the doors leading out to the patio and watched the rain that was still pouring down.

Thelma got up and walked over to where he was standing. "I doubt you remember. You were only three at the time."

"Mom, please." Sam looked over his shoulder to where his mother stood behind him. His voice, although frustrated, wasn't unkind. "Please just tell me what this about. What does it have to do with anything?"

"Your father and Thad got into a terrible argument. For almost a year, they wouldn't even talk to each other. Then on the day Katie was born, our truck got stuck in the mud and John didn't know how he was going to get me to the hospital. Thad happen to drive by and got us there just in time. After that, the two of them made amends. I don't think they ever had another serious argument as long as John lived."

"So, are you telling me to get a truck stuck in the mud 'cause I've already done that?"

"No. I'm telling you that even though you feel that this disagreement may mean the end of your friendship with the Admiral, that's not a given." She turned him around and put her hands on either side of his face. "I know this hurts, Sam. You haven't had that many really good friends throughout your life. You just have to give this some time."

"I'm afraid that the more time that goes by, the less likely it'll work out." Again Sam shook his head. "I'm not even sure I want it to work it out."

"It must have been a terrible disagreement. Still, I think that in a few days time, things might look different. They often do."

Sam wished he could tell his mother just what the argument with Al had been about but he couldn't. He'd avoided telling her anything that had happened on the fishing trip to Idaho. It was a worry she didn't need. "I hope, Mom."

"I hope so too, Sam." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Now, it's getting late and you're probably tired with your long travel day. Maybe we should turn in. We can talk some more in the morning."

"Yeah, Mom, that sounds good." After the poor night's sleep he had the night before and as exhausted as he was from spending the whole day traveling, Sam was sure he'd be able to sleep tonight no matter what thoughts may be swirling in his mind. "You go on to bed and I'll clean up out here then I'll turn in."

Thelma smiled. "You've always been such a good boy, Sam." As she walked away, she told him, "but while you're cleaning up, I'm going to put some fresh sheets on the guest room bed."

"You don't have to do that, Mom. Just go on to bed." Sam collected the dishes from the table and put them in the dishwasher.

She stopped and looked back at him. "I know I don't have to. I want to."

"Ok, Mom." Sam finished cleaning up the kitchen then went back to the guestroom. Thelma was just finishing with the sheets when he got there.

"There you are, honey." She finished smoothing out the sheet. "It is nice having you here. I have to admit, with the house so empty it was a bit lonely."

"I'm glad I can keep you company." Sam bent down a little so he could hug his mother. "I'm glad I'm here, Mom. Good night," he said as he released her.

Thelma hugged her son tightly. She knew he was hurting and when he hurt, she did as well. A part of her wanted to go back to the days when she could hold him in her arms and rock his sadness away. "I love you, Sam," she told him instead.

"I love you too, Mom." After Thelma left the room, Sam turned off the light and got into bed. As he did, he noticed lightening slash the sky beyond the window. He resolutely rolled over so his back was to it and pulled the blanket up. He willed himself to simply sleep through the night without anything disturbing his sleep and, by extension, his mother's.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

After spending most of the day and half of the night figuring out where Sam was and then getting there, Al parked the small compact car he'd rented. It was either that or take a taxi and he preferred to have his own wheels. From the light on the eastern horizon, it was close to 5 am. Even knowing that the Beckett's woke early, he still felt bad showing up at the break of dawn.

Walking up to the door, he knocked. When no one came to the door, he knocked again.

After the third time he knocked, the door was answered by Thelma. She hadn't slept well, worried about Sam, and was surprised by an early morning visitor. Her surprise was quelled when she looked out the window by the door and saw Al standing there. She should have known he wouldn't be far behind her son. "Hello, Admiral," she said evenly when she opened the door.

"Good morning, Thelma. Sorry to wake you but..." Al answered, nervously. "Is Sam here?"

"He's here," Thelma answered coolly. She hadn't moved back as yet to allow Al to enter. "He showed up here last night very upset. From what little I could get out of him, you seem to be the cause." Although Sam was an adult and could fight his own battle, she was not going to stand idly on the sidelines while someone caused him hurt. No matter how old he was, he was still her son - her Little One.

Al looked down, chastised by her words. "Yeah. I guess things got a little out of hand. I should have known that last night wasn't the time to talk about..." He realized that Thelma likely didn't know about Idaho. Sam tended to keep things from her that he thought would worry her. "...um...what we talked about." He looked up at her. "I've got to make this right, Thelma."

Thelma peered closely at Al looking for the subterfuge in his words. When she saw only his honest need to heal whatever rift had opened up between her son and him, she stepped back so he could come in. "He's still sleeping. Even though he didn't say it, I could tell he was exhausted when he got here."

"I don't doubt it. If his night was anything like mine, he didn't get much sleep." The Admiral entered the house. "Why don't you go on back to bed, Thelma. I can wait in the living room until Sam wakes up."

"It's ok, Al. I'm up now. I'll make some coffee."

"I can help you if you wan…" he started, stopping as he saw the look on Thelma Beckett's face. "I guess you really don't need my help to make coffee," he said wryly.

"No. I've been making coffee a long time," Thelma answered with a light laugh at Al's observation. "Make yourself comfortable. You must be tired as well"

Well, that's true," Al said. He quickly amended, "I mean I am tired. I wasn't referring to making the coffee."

Again, Thelma lightly laughed. "I know what you mean, Al. Coffee'll be ready in a little bit. Can I get you anything to eat with it?"

"No. I don't think I can eat right now. My stomach's been tied up in knots since I found Sam was gone."

"He didn't give you any idea he was going to come here?" The open plan allowed Thelma to move around in the kitchen and still talk with Al in the living room.

"Um...no," Al answered. "We had an argument last night." He tilted his head with a look on his face that showed he was figuring something out. "Two night's ago. Um...last night for me, not you." He waved away the explanation. "Anyways...I felt we needed some time to calm down and I left. I tried calling Sam, but he didn't answer. I thought he was just being stubborn until I finally came by the house and he was gone."

Finished with putting the coffee together, Thelma came into the living room and perched on the couch next to Al. She looked at him seriously. "What happened, Al? I don't mean the two of you quarrelling. Something more has happened but the only thing Sam's mentioned is some letter from Donna. There's been more than that, hasn't there?"

Al looked away. If Sam hadn't told his mother about things that had happened, he didn't feel it was his place to do so. He decided to see if he could avoid actually answering the question. "The letter was a problem, Thelma. I don't think he'd ever really gotten over her. Still, that's one thing he won't need to worry about anymore. I put her on notice that she's never to do anything like that again. I don't think he'll be hearing from her - ever."

Thelma crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward slightly. She spoke in a tone of voice that would brook no nonsense. "Admiral, you're hiding something just like my son is and, frankly, I'm tired of it. Now, what has Sam been up to?"

"With all due respect, Thelma, Sam would be really angry if I told you." Seeing her lips narrow, he gave in just a little. "Let's just say that this year has made last year look like a piece of cake."

"Do you want to help, Sam? I assume since you followed him here you must. If you do, tell me what's happened," Thelma demanded. "I don't really care if it does anger Sam. You know me, Al. You know I don't meddle in my children's affairs but if I see them hurting, I want to help. I have to. I don't know why Sam can't or won't tell me what's happened but I know there's more bothering him than just your quarrel."

"Sam doesn't want you to worry," Al said.. He looked over at the window. The light outside was getting brighter. He bit at his lip as he thought of what he should tell her.

"Well isn't that nice," Thelma said dryly. "Too bad that's exactly what I'm doing. Now either one of you can tell me what's really been happening or I can think the worst. I know Sam's only going to try to deflect my worry so that leaves you, Admiral."

Al got up and moved over to the bookshelf, continuing to sort out what to say to her. He knew how Sam wouldn't want him to say anything but he also knew that Thelma's concern was justified. "I'm not sure that Sam would appreciate my letting you know."

She stood up and moved to stand in font of him. "Probably not but he showed up last night looking like a lost soul. Sam may not consciously want to talk about whatever it is that's bothering him, but he wouldn't be here if he didn't need to deal with whatever that is." Thelma paused just a beat to see if Al would say anything. When he didn't, she once more demanded, "Now tell me what my son has been but to."

Deciding that Thelma had a point, Al decided that letting her know about some of it might help his friend. He carefully chose what to share. "You know about the pneumonitis. Well, a few months after that we went to LA. Sam witnessed a crime. It really bothered him." He paused. "He was the only person that could ID the guy."

Before Thelma was able to say anything in response to this piece of information, she heard noises from Sam in the bedroom. It sounded as if his sleep had become unpleasant.

Al too heard the sounds and knew without question it was Sam. He rushed after Thelma, standing in the doorway as she made her way to his side.

When she got close to her son, Thelma was able to make out what he was saying and drew a quick breath. She looked back over her shoulder to where Al was standing just in the doorway. "He thinks your dead."

"Oh, no Sammy. Not again..." Al began, emotions of dismay capturing his face. He moved in closer and called out to his friend. "It's ok, Sam. Open your eyes. I'm not dead. I'm here." There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Sweetheart, it's ok." Thelma sat on the side of the bed and began to brush her hand over Sam's head trying to reach through the nightmare that held him in its grip. "It's ok, Sam. Al's here. You just need to wake up, Sweetheart."

Slowly, the voices filtered through to Sam and he blinked his eyes open. He looked at his mother groggily. "Mom? I thought...I was dreaming that Al was dead."

Thelma continued to comfort him. "Shhh...It's all right Sam."

"Yeah, Kid. It was just a bad dream." Al walked over to the side of the bed, standing next to where Thelma was so Sam could see him.

"Al?" Sam questioned as he blinked up at the man standing over his bed. "He said you were dead."

"You were dreaming, Sam. He's the one that's dead, not me," Al said calmly, hoping that Sam wasn't going to start having the nightmares again. After Farkel arrived, the nightmares had ceased but then had come back after Donna's letter. He'd gotten over them again but now it looked like they might be returning. "Just don't let him get to you."

Thelma was confused by the conversation and she was just about to ask some questions when Al's words triggered something in Sam and he pushed up abruptly to sit with his back against the headboard. "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

"What?" asked the older man, surprised by the words but more so by the tone. "I went over to your house and you were gone, Sam. What did you expect me to do?"

"So it's ok for you to just take off but I can't. What? Did you track me down like some kind of criminal?" All traces of the fear the dream had inspired were wiped away as Sam's anger moved to the fore once more.

"Sam!" Thelma chastised. "Al was worried about you and came looking to make sure you were safe."

Sam's words ripped into Al. "You know that's not fair, Kid." His words were quiet.

"Fair? You want me to compromise my principles but I'm supposed to be fair?" Sam turned to his mother. "How can you take his side, Mom? You don't know what he wants me to do."

"I'm not taking anyone's side, Sam. I don't even understand what's happening between the two of you but I know this. If you don't stop quarreling and talk instead, it's not going to get better."

"I don't want you to compromise your principles. I never said that. I just said that if you're subpoenaed, deciding to ignore it wouldn't be the brightest thing you ever did."

Still feeling like she was missing a large chunk of what transpired, Thelma tried to match up what Al had been telling her before Sam woke up to what the two men were talking about now. "He's right, Sam. You can't ignore a subpoena. If you witnessed a crime…" She didn't get a chance to finish before Sam nearly erupted from the bed. He was in Al's personal space in a couple of steps.

"You told her?" he half stated, half asked in a low, dangerous tone. "How dare you? Who the hell gave you the right?" He gave Al a small shove backwards. "What gives you the right to meddle in my affairs? Did you tell her I almost killed someone 'cause I thought you were dead or maybe you thought it would be a good idea to tell her about my tearing up a hotel room? How much did you tell her, Calavicci? Damn you."

"Sam, stop it," Thelma commanded. The two things he mentioned had her curiosity peaked but right now wasn't the time to get to the bottom of those statements. "Stop it right now. I don't know what you're talking about but he didn't tell me any of that even though I all but begged him to tell me what happened." She grabbed hold of her son's arm and tried to pull him back.

When Sam felt his mother grab hold of his arm, he yanked it away to free himself. When he did, he knocked Thelma off balance and she fell to the floor. He looked down with wide eyes to where his mother had fallen then dropped quickly to his knees next to her. "Mama? Are you hurt? I'm sorry, Mama. I'm so sorry."

"I'm ok, Sam. I'm ok," Thelma assured him although she was shaken. She'd never seen her son this angry before. "It's ok," she repeated as he helped her up. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? You're out of control."

"It's his fault," Sam told her in explanation before looking at Al accusingly. "You shouldn't be here," he spat.

"I....I..." the older man stuttered. "I thought..." He stopped and then made his plea. "I just want to get things back to normal."

"Al, it might be best for you to go wait in the other room," Thelma suggested hoping to stave off any more hurtful words from her son. "Go on. We'll figure this all out."

"There's nothing to figure out, Mom. I did it again. I trusted someone and thought he was my friend but, in the end, I'm a fool just like always."

Al had started towards the door when he heard Sam's words. They cut him to his very soul. He turned back. "You've never been a fool. Never." He couldn't say anymore. It hurt too much. He continued into the living room and sat down on the sofa, the shock of Sam's words rolling over him.

"Sam," Thelma chastised. "That was a horrible thing to say. I know you're upset but Al has helped you through so much. I don't think you believe what you just said."

"Yes, I do," Sam said with little conviction in his voice. Deep down, he knew there was no truth to what he said. His mother was right. He felt totally out of control right now but didn't know how to regain it. It was like he was on a runaway train with no brakes.

Thelma licked her lips, trying to understand what was happening. "Maybe you should tell me more about what you accused Al of telling me. Then maybe I might understand what's come over you."

At first Sam, was going to refuse but then realized that the cat was out of the bag and he may as well tell her. If he had to, though, it was going to be an abbreviated version. He began by telling her about the fishing trip. He tried to lessen the severity of the run in with Harry and Ted not wanting to upset her more than was absolutely necessary. He alluded to the fact that he felt his life was in jeopardy, as well as Al's, but he didn't tell her anything explicit. He did tell her that people in the town had been killed when they robbed the bank. He finished by telling her that the sheriff arrived and arrested them and about the phone call from the DA the other night. "That's all of it, Mom. I won't be responsible for someone else dying but Al wants me to."

As Thelma listened she grew confused about the events sensing that Sam was omitting major parts. It also concerned her because it was apparent that her son and his friend had been talking about two separate situations. "Let's just say that this year has made last year look like a piece of cake" the Admiral had said. She was beginning to see what he meant. Looking at her son now, she was sure he'd need to deal with whatever had occurred. She wasn't sure if it was to spare him or her but quickly decided that it wouldn't help to push him for more at this moment. Instead, maybe addressing his current concern would be the better way to go. She didn't say anything for a long moment once he was finished. "What if your words would do the opposite?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"What if you were to ask the judge to show mercy?"

"That's not what they want me to do, Mom," he said with shake of his head. "The DA was very clear that he wants to use the statement I'd make at the sentencing to make sure Ted gets the maximum sentence he can get. In Idaho, that's the death penalty. I won't be a party to that. He's lost his brother. I know what that feels like. The DA doesn't. Al doesn't."

"Maybe not, Sam, but Al's come awfully close to knowing what it feels like." Thelma took hold of Sam's wrist and pulled him back to sit on the bed next to her. "How many times has he almost lost you?" She didn't give a chance to answer before pressing on. "That would be the same thing. I really don't think you're being fair to Al."

"He doesn't care about me. It was all some kind of big act so he could make sure he had a job." Again, there was very little conviction in Sam's voice. Mostly, there was hurt and the fear that what he said could, somehow, end up being true.

"Saaam," Thelma softly chastised. "Do you really believe that or are you just hurt because you and Al have quarreled and want different things?"

Sam hung his head and shrugged one shoulder. "Don't know."

"I think you do." Thelma gently lifted her son's face so she could see his eyes. "Do you really believe what you just said about Al," she asked again slowly.

"No," Sam finally answered in a voice little louder than a whisper. "I guess not."

"Then talk to him, Sam. Tell him you're hurt and that's why you said those unkind things." She rubbed his back softly. "Don't let your hurt and anger destroy your friendship."

Sam grew quiet. He knew his mother was giving him good counsel but he wasn't ready to take it. "I can't, Mom. Not right now. I need time – time to think."

"Ok, Sam," Thelma answered quietly. "If you need time, I'll let Al know that."

For the moment, it was all he was willing to accept. If she gave Al that message and if everything he'd ever believed about Al were true, he knew the man would give him that time. "Ok, Mom."

"Honey, we'll find a way to make this all right." Thelma got up from the bed and dropped a quick kiss on her son's head then left the bedroom to try to smooth things over with her son's best friend. She could see how this quarrel was tearing them both apart and her heart ached for them.

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Al turned his head as heard the door to Sam's bedroom open. He saw Thelma coming into the living room. "I guess I've really blown it."

"No, you haven't blown it. Sam doesn't mean what he said."

Al looked away. "I'm not sure about that."

Thelma moved to sit beside Al and rested her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure. Sam's upset. That's why he said what he did but he doesn't mean it. I asked him."

Al turned to her, a mix of pain and hope in his eyes. "Then why would he say that? If there's one thing I know about Sam, it's that he tends to say what he means."

"Most times, yes he does," Thelma agreed. "But when he's upset, he's just like anyone else. Sometimes he just lashes out without thinking about what he's saying." Thelma pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm still not completely sure what happened between the two of you. Sam explained some but he didn't tell me everything you quarreled about. From what I could figure out, you said something that hurt him. I think he was just trying to protect himself from being hurt again."

Al licked at his lips and looked guiltily at her. "I'm not sure but I think it may have been a poor choice of words."

"I think you've both had poor choices of words," Thelma agreed. "I tried to get him to come out here and talk to you but he's not ready yet."

"Did Sam tell you about what happened?" He saw the look on her face and clarified, "I mean about the stuff that's happened this year?"

"He didn't tell me about what you said but he told me about when you went fishing." Thelma told him sadly. "I think he left some fairly large chunks out of it. My heart tells me there's more."

Al saw in Thelma's eyes the questioning. Since Sam had told her some of the story, he felt he needed to give her more perspective. "They would have killed him, Thelma. They had robbed a bank and killed several people after that and they were ready to kill him because he started to stand up to them. I had to make him back down and play the pathetic, helpless, brainiac nerd and I added to it by telling them that you'd pay a huge ransom for his return. It was the only thing I could think of at the time. It worked but I think that with the situation, maybe it became too real for Sam. He took what Harry said to heart. He's been having nightmares like the one he had tonight too many times since that happened."

Thelma blinked a few times as Al filled in just a little more of what her son had glossed over. She didn't understand why Al would cast him in a nearly helpless role but it sounded as if he was trying to protect Sam. "Did you do that to hurt him? Was it your plan break all his defenses when you did that?" she asked with an arched brow.

"Hell no! I was just trying to keep him alive. Harry had the gun cocked and held against his head." The man closed his eyes and shook his head pushing away the memory. "I was afraid if I didn't do something..." He stopped, realizing that he was getting carried away.

Thelma's hand flew up to cover her mouth when she heard just how close Sam had come to death. "Oh," she said softly. "He didn't...he just said that man threatened him, not that he..."

Al looked over to the door of the room where Sam was staying, realizing this time he had spilled more than what Sam wanted his mother to know. "I guess I put my foot in it this time."

"No. I know Sam doesn't want me to know this but...I'm glad that I do. It helps me to understand why he's so shaken. Don't worry. I won't let him know you told me."

"Thanks, Thelma. I don't want to add on anything else that'll drive a wedge between us." Al got up from the couch and paced in front of it a few times. "I think it was a mistake chasing him here. I should have just called and made sure he was ok."

"Oh, Al, you just did what any good friend would, that's all. I'm sure once Sam's calmed down some, he'll realize that."

"I hope, Thelma." He stopped, looking out the window behind the couch. He continued to stand there, not saying anything, obviously in thought. Finally he turned. "Sam came here for a reason. With all the garbage he's had to put up with, he needs you. I think you've always been a rock for him and he needs that stability."

I'm not his only rock, Al. Surely you know that by now."

"That may have been true a few months ago but I don't think so right now. He may not have fully meant what he said to me in there, but I think there's a reason he said it."

"And just what do you think that reason is?" Thelma asked curiously.

Taking a breath, he came back over to Thelma. "There's something else you don't know."

Thelma raised an eyebrow at that. "And just what would that be?"

Al looked back at the door to Sam's room. "Let's go out on the deck," he said.

Thelma looked out and saw that the previous night's rain had ended. "Ok," she agreed slightly uneasy. If Al needed to take her that far from Sam's hearing, it must be something serious.

Once they were outside, Al took a breath. "You know how I told you Sam witnessed a crime in May? That's true...but the fact was...he was the victim and the nutcase that hurt him wasn't going to let him be around to ID him." Al didn't get into the specifics of Sam's injuries. "I..I had to kill the man before he killed Sam."

Thelma sank down on one of the deck chairs. She didn't say anything for a long moment absorbing what Al had told her. "Why didn't I know any of this before now? Why does he keep doing this - hiding these things from me?"

"He doesn't want to worry you, Thelma. Like I said, you're his rock and after your heart attack, he doesn't want to hurt you."

"He hurts me more by not telling me these things." She shook her head slightly. "I can't change it now." She pinned him with her eyes. "Tell me more about what happened. I know Sam won't or he won't tell me the whole story. I want to know what happened to him. I notice he's got a slight limp. Is that from what happened in May or when you were fishing?"

"Like I said, Thelma, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time in May. The leg? That happened in Idaho. He tripped over a root."

"And," she prompted. "I asked you to tell me the whole story."

Al shook his head slowly reluctant to tell Sam's mother anymore if than he had. He knew that with each bit of information he gave her, he was ultimately betraying Sam's trust. Things were strained too much to keep doing that. "If I tell you what you want to know, as much as that might help, I'll lose his trust. That's too high a cost. I'm sorry."

At first Thelma wanted to argue with him and she almost did. Then she realized the truth in what he was saying. Right now, if there was any hope in healing the rift between her son and Al, he couldn't lose his trust. "Ok, I won't ask you to tell me just answer me this. Why did you tell me any of what happened if you don't want to lose any more of this trust?" As an afterthought she added, "Was my son hurt when this happened?"

Al looked at her for a moment and then decided to tell her at least a little more. "Yeah. Sam was injured but other than having to recuperate again, the stuff that happened in May wasn't that bad physically." He then turned back to her other question, "I wanted you to know because I think I know why Sam's doing what he's doing. You say I'm as much a rock for him as you are. The problem is that as much as Sam and I agree on, we're very different in a lot of ways. I think that he's had to face that more than usual this last year. I think he's second guessing himself."

"Well, if he's second guessing himself, it's all the more important that the two of you come to some kind of resolution with this so he can put it behind him." Thelma reached out grabbing hold of Al's hand. "Don't give up on my son, Admiral."

Al gave Thelma a kind smile. "Not a chance of that, Thelma." He thought for a moment, "But Sam may not feel the same about me. It's possible that with all of the things that have happened and the things we've been through...well I could see that he might want to put some space between us again." He realized that Thelma didn't know about what had happened after LA. "He seemed to need that before the trip to Idaho."

Thelma started to ask a question but stopped knowing she probably wouldn't get a satisfactory answer. "I'm not even going to ask. I know it's useless. All I'm asking is that you try. I know how stubborn Sam can be, believe me. You just need to wait that out. From all that he's told me, he's afraid of losing his friendship with you. I know he doesn't want that."

"Well, the feeling's mutual. Still, maybe it wasn't the best idea I had to rush out here to Hawaii. I guess I was worried that he just did it out of the blue. Sam's usually not that spontaneous."

"You can say that again," Thelma agreed quickly. "I can't tell you how surprised I was to see him standing outside the door last night. I knew something had to be wrong." She stopped and thought for a moment. "Don't make a hasty decision. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to follow him here but you did. Just wait a bit before you make a decision to leave."

"Ok," Al agreed. "Since I'm here, how about I fix breakfast for you and Sam."

"You don't have to do that. You're probably tired from the flight. Why don't you relax and I'll fix breakfast."

"That would be nice. Thanks. But if you need any help..."

"No. Go and sit." As she ordered Al to relax, Thelma noticed Sam coming into the living room. "Good morning again, Sweetheart."

"Morning, Mom." Sam eyed Al but didn't say anything to him.

Al sighed. He decided to ignore the tension and talk to him. "When I was going through the airport in LA, I saw Rob Motts. He was on his way to New Mexico to do a little house hunting in Socorro. He said he's looking forward to working with you."

"Mmmhmmm," Sam agreed somewhat uninterested. "Thought he was going back east to have Thanksgiving with his family.

"This was the first part of that trip. He's taken the week off. He was stopping for a few days in New Mexico and then going on to Connecticut."

"That's nice." Sam went into the kitchen where his mother had started breakfast preparations. "Do you need any help, Mom?"

"No, Sam. I've got it all under control. Why don't you go in the living room and keep Al company?" She moved toward him and caressed his cheek. "You can't keep avoiding him, Sam," she said quietly.

Nodding silently, Sam moved back to the living room where Al was. The tension between them was a palpable thing and he didn't know how to break it.

When his attempt to talk about Mott's hadn't had the results he'd hoped, Al turned to a more mundane topic. "So how was the flight out?"

"It was long." Sam perched on the edge of the sofa. "How was yours?"

"Other than the fact that they cancelled my direct flight to LA…great. I got rerouted through Phoenix."

"That's tough. It's a long flight without getting rerouted." Sam wasn't sure what else to say. He started on a couple of questions but stopped. "It rained last night." He couldn't remember there ever being a time when it was so hard to talk to Al.

"That explains why it took so long for the rental to be ready."

"Huh?" Sam felt sure he'd missed something.

"Usually when the weather's bad, they have a lot more cleaning of the cars that are returned," Al explained.

"Oh, yeah. I guess." An uneasy silence fell on the room again. Sam was tempted once more to offer his mother help but knew he'd be sent back to the living room. "You got one, right?"

"Yeah. But they only had one of the compacts."

"That's too bad. I know you don't like them."

"Yeah. I'd rather drive a Jeep before one of these."

"Uh huh." Sam forced a brief smile to his face. "You never seem to like mine."

"It's ok. The Jeep just fits you better than me." Al was quiet for moment. "When I saw your Jeep was gone my first thought was you'd gone driving around again."

Sam got up abruptly and began to pace the living room. "I've only done that once…once. You're not going to let me forget, though, are you?"

Al sighed. "I know, but it wasn't that long ago," he rationalized. "It wasn't just the Jeep though. The way things were left, it appeared you were in a hurry." He paused. "Oh, and the other fish died. I buried him under the bush where you put the other one." He'd thought it was a little strange when Sam hadn't just flushed the first fish, but he knew that sometimes the kid did things a little different.

"George," Sam whispered. "I didn't have the heart to do anything with him. Thank you for taking care of him." He didn't comment on Al's statement about the state of the house.

"No problem."

Again, a tense silence fell in the room. Sam endeavored to break it this time. "Was it a long flight?" he asked before scowling. "I already asked you that." He blew out an irritated breath.

Before Al could answer, Thelma called out to them that breakfast was ready. Al got up, "Well, it's like you said, it's a long flight no matter what."

"Yeah," Sam said under his breath as he went into the kitchen. "Long, long flight."

The two took seats where Thelma indicated they should then she put a plate of French toast in front of them both then took her own seat. The meal was a tense one. Thelma tried to initiate conversation but the two men didn't seem to be able to get past the newfound awkwardness between them. Finally, the meal was over.

Thelma collected the dirty dishes and put them down next to the sink. "Sam, you can wash. Al, you can dry and put away." As she walked out of the room, she turned back to them with one more order. "Talk!"

Al watched as Thelma walked out of the room. "I think she means business.."

"Yeah, she does." Sam slowly made his way over to the sink and started to run the water, adding soap to it. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry just so things end," he said abruptly.

"What?" Al said in surprise. "You're going to have to fill me in on your thoughts, Kid. I'm not a mind reader."

"That's what always happens when we argue. I have to say I'm sorry. I'm not going to do that this time. I'm not going to do things your way."

"That's just not…" Al started and then changed to a warning when he noticed how full the sink was getting. "Better turn off the water, Sam."

"I know that. I know when to turn off the water without you telling me." Sam abruptly turned off the water and threw the sponge he was holding into the sink. "I'm not a moron, you know. I don't need you to tell me every little thing to do with my life."

"I know you're not, Sam. I never said you were and I don't tell you every little thing to do. You might feel like it right now, but I don't do that. I was just pointing it out to you because it was about to run over and you were preoccupied." He licked his lips lightly. "And I don't expect you to apologize. If you feel you're doing it too much, then don't."

"Stop it. Stop telling me what to do."

"Fine. I won't say another word if it's upsetting you this much. You want to just get the dishes done like your mother asked?"

Sam didn't bother with an answer. He picked up the pile of dirty dishes and plunged them into the soapy water. He washed them off with quick, jerky motions, depositing them on the other side of the sink to rinse off.

Al turned the faucet to the side of the sink that Sam was putting the dishes in and started running clean hot water on one of the plates before drying it and putting it on the counter. He didn't say anything more, not sure how to proceed.

The two continued that way until the dishes were finished and put away. Al had put the towel over its rack before starting back to the living room. Thelma was sitting on the couch reading the Sunday paper. "And..." she prompted. "Did the two of you talk?"

"We talked," Al said before adding, "but I think there's still too much hurt there to really say anything meaningful."

"Or the two of you are just too stubborn to get past it. As different as the two of you are, you're too much alike." She folded the paper and set it beside her. Looking over the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, she could just see that Sam had gone outside onto the deck. She'd witnessed the near silence while they completed the chore she'd assigned them. "So what are your plans now?"

"I don't know, Thelma. I just know that right now it feels like I made a major blunder coming out here like I did. I don't think Sam's ever been as mad at me as he is right now. I'm thinking that maybe I should leave and let him enjoy his visit with you."

"He's not mad. He's more hurt than anything else and it's coming out as anger." At the look Al gave her, Thelma explained, "I've known him his whole life. I know when he's really angry about something and when it's hurt feelings that are causing his anger." She thought about what Al had said about leaving. "If you think going back to New Mexico is the best thing, I guess it is." She looked past Al to where she could see Sam looking out to the sea on the deck. "Don't just leave, though. Make sure he understands why you're leaving. Sam's always been sensitive about people going. Ever since he was just a little bit of thing and Tom would go to school. It always upset him so much."

"I know," Al acknowledged. It was the one thing that seemed to play out constantly - Sam's distaste of him leaving and his need, sometimes, to step away from a situation to regain his ballast. With a sigh he told her, "I'll let him know."

"No, Al. Don't just let him know. He needs to understand," Thelma reiterated. "If he doesn't, the hurt only gets bigger and he'll only get angrier."

"I'll try, Thelma. I'm just not sure he's ready to listen." He went over to the patio doors and opened one. "Hey, Kid." When Sam didn't answer, he walked out onto the deck with him. "You're right. I shouldn't have jumped on a plane to follow you. It wasn't the most stellar of my ideas." As Al said the words, he knew that faced with the same circumstances again, he'd probably do the same thing.

"You're going back." There was no question in Sam's voice. It shouldn't be a surprise that Al was leaving. It often happened when the older man needed to get some perspective on the situation. Still, the knowledge that he was leaving filled Sam with the same irrational dread he'd been feeling since the incident in Idaho. He'd always hated when Al left but now it all but terrified him. Verbena had explained it was all a part of the PTSD he was still dealing with. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on some of the behavioral modification exercises she had been teaching him to combat this. He refused to have a panic attack now. "Are you going to leave right now?" he asked when he felt his voice would hold steady.

"I think it would probably be best, Sam. Let you have some time with your Mom. I'll see you back at the project after Thanksgiving."

Sam swallowed heavily. "Yeah, ok. I'll come back after Thanksgiving." He tried to smile but it was only fleeting. "I haven't seen Sarah in so long she probably doesn't remember who Uncle Sam is."

"It'll be good for you to be with family, Kid." With a breath, Al gave a small smile. "It'll be ok, Sam. When you get back to New Mexico we'll talk and get it all figured out again."

Sam's only answer was a slight nod. When it didn't seem there was any other answer forthcoming, Al turned to go back in the house. "I'll see you in a about a week, Sam." He went back into the house, said his goodbyes to Thelma and left for the drive back to the airport.

"Bye, Al," Sam whispered. From where he was standing on the deck, he was just able to see Al's rental car pull away from the curb and go up the street. When the car was out of sight, he turned back to look out at the ocean. The waves, still in turmoil from the storm the previous night, seemed a good metaphor for how he was feeling inside. He wished he'd been able to break through his self-imposed silence to tell his friend not to leave - to stay so they could work their differences out.

He went back in the house and sat on the couch next to his mother, leaning against her. "Did I just screw up, Mom?"

Thelma had watched the drama unfold but hadn't heard what Al had said nor her son's responses. "What happened on the deck?"

"He said he was going back to New Mexico. I didn't try to stop him and I wouldn't talk with him like you said." He saw the look of exasperation in her eyes. "I just couldn't, Mom. Not yet."

"Did he give you any reason why he was leaving?" she asked, wondering if at least the Admiral had taken her advice.

"He needs time to think I guess. Said I need the same thing. I understand, I guess. I just..." Sam wondered how much to tell his mother right now. He'd been as circumspect as possible telling her about Idaho and Harry. "It just really frightens me when Al leaves...since Idaho."

His mother gauged what she heard. This sounded like more than just the sensitivity she'd come to expect from him. "What did that man say to you, Sam? Al said 'you took his words to heart.' What does that mean?"

"Nothing, Mom. Forget I said anything." Sam straightened up from where he'd leaned against his mother. He regretted having opened up as much as he had. He knew he'd only cause her more worry and that was never his aim. "It doesn't mean anything."

She turned to him and cupped his cheek in her hand, "Oh Sweetheart, let me know what's hurting you so. I'm a strong old bird, even if you don't think so, and I think this situation with Al is related to that."

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom. Please. Sometimes when I do, the memories are too much." He'd had a few outbursts of anger since coming back from Idaho. They hadn't been like the one he'd had in the hotel back in Idaho but there were times when pulling up the memories of Harry and all he'd said and done were more than Sam could handle. Sometimes he reacted with irrational anger and sometimes there were panic attacks. He didn't want his mother to witness either event.

"Ok, Sam. When you're ready." She paused. "As to the Admiral, I'm sure that things will get back on keel. You two have too strong a friendship for it to break."

"I hope you're right, Mom. I hope you're right."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

As Sam and Thelma settled into the day, Sam began to relax a little, telling himself that Al was right. Things would be fine when he got back to New Mexico the following week.

Mother and son decided to watch an old movie that one of the local stations was airing.. The two of them were laughing through the antics in one of the old Hope/Crosby "Road" movies when a special report flashed onto the screen. Sam had been enjoying the movie and the time with his mother. "Why does it always happen when you're watching something good?"

"It does always seem to happen that way," Thelma agreed as she got up from the couch. "Well, I need to start seeing what we can have for lunch anyway so I guess this is as good a time as any."

As Thelma went into the kitchen, the anchor appeared with breaking news about a flight to LA that had taken off from the Honolulu airport a short time before. The plane had not gotten enough lift and crashed. Emergency personnel were on scene and more information would be provided as the station received it. Once the report was over, the movie returned.

Staring in stunned disbelief at the TV, Sam whispered, "Al was on that plane. I killed him."

Thelma came back in just as the report was ending. "Oh, Sam, there's no way you could know that," She had been listening while she was in the kitchen and hadn't expected this reaction from her son. It hadn't even occurred to her that this could somehow impact Al. "We don't know what flight he was taking. Don't talk like that."

"Why, Mom? 'Cause it's the truth?" Sam got up and started pacing the living room, explaining his rational. "Ok, so I don't know for certain yet. I just know that once Al makes up his mind, he does exactly what he says. There wouldn't be any reason to wait." He paused and looked towards his mother, pain in his eyes. "I did it with Dad. I wasn't there for him and now I've probably lost my chance to make things right with Al." He continued to pace, trying to relieve the nervousness he felt. "Why didn't I listen to you," he berated himself.

Thelma moved to catch Sam on one of his circuits of the room. She grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back to sit on the couch by her. "You need to stop borrowing trouble, Sam. You don't know if Al was on that plane and even if you're right, it's not your fault. He may have left anyways, to give us some time."

"It is my fault that we didn't make things right." Sam allowed himself to be pulled to the couch. "I wouldn't talk to him. I should have. You and Dad always said not to let anger fester and that's what I was doing." He looked to the TV that was no longer showing the news bulletin. "Now it may be too late."

"Oh, Sam," his mother said sadly. "Don't do this to yourself. You're not to blame."

Ignoring his mother's words, Sam grabbed the remote and started cycling through the stations until he found another newscast covering the plane crash. Thelma kept trying to convince him that nothing was his fault and that it was very likely that Al wasn't on the plane but it was to no avail.

As more time went by, Sam became more and more anxious. Every time one channel would break away from the unfolding story, he'd switch until he found another that was covering it. He moved from the couch to sitting on the floor directly in front of the TV scouring all the faces on the screen hoping to see the one face that was familiar to him…the one he cared about.

Thelma watched as her son continued to internalize his feelings as each moment went by without word from Al. Her words of comfort and pleas that he not tear himself apart like he was fell on deaf ears. The one time she tried to take the television remote from him to turn it off; he snatched it back from her. She was beginning to wish she knew how to contact the therapist Sam had mentioned meeting with so she could find a way to reach through to him.

It was just after noon when there was a knock on the door. Giving Sam a worried look, Thelma went to answer it. When she saw the person on the other side was the object of her son's worry and anxiety, she let out a sigh of relief. "Al, I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," she said as she pulled him into a swift hug.

Al hadn't been expecting this kind of greeting and it concerned him that maybe Sam hadn't taken his departure as well as he'd seemed. "Something wrong, Thelma?"

"You need to go to Sam," she said as she pulled him in the house and shut the door. "He needs to see you right now."

The way Thelma spoke concerned Al even more and cemented for him that he made the right decision coming back and not getting on the plane. When he walked into the living room, he saw Sam sitting on the floor with his nose nearly pressed to the television. He briefly glanced at what was on it and saw a special news report of some kind. Whatever it was, it looked nasty.

He squatted down just behind his friend and rested his hand on his back. He could feel that Sam was trembling ever so slightly when he did. "Sam? What's wrong, Buddy."

At the sound of the voice behind him, Sam whirled around to face the person. When he felt the touch on his back, he'd thought it had been his mother again. "Al?" he asked in disbelief, his brow knitting in confusion. He looked back to the TV and then to his friend again. "You're not on…but you said…" His voice trailed off as he launched himself at his friend grabbing him in a tight bear hug. "You're alive."

At Sam's words, Al immediately thought that he'd once more been flashing on what Harry had told him. He wrapped his arms around him and held on tight. "Yeah, I'm alive, Kid. I told you, he was just filling your head with lies."

Sam pulled back shaking his head back and forth. "No. I know that. I thought you were…" He turned and pointed at the television.

Al looked closer and realized what the news report was – a plane had crashed. At that moment information flashed across the screen that had been newly released – the flight number of the plane. When Al saw it, he blanched and reached into his pocket pulling out his unused boarding pass and looked at the flight number that was on it. It was the same as the plane that had crashed.

His voice was a shaky. "That was my plane," he breathed. He paused. "At least it would have been."

Sam looked back to the TV then to his friend and hugged him again. "I could have lost my best friend. I'm sorry, Al. I really am. Not because you think I should say that but because we argued and I didn't want to try to fix it. You could have died with things wrong between us."

Al patted Sam lightly on the back. "Hey, Kid. It's ok. I'm here and I'm safe and we've got that time."

Thelma moved over to the two men and rested her hand on the older man's shoulder. "I'm glad you're ok, Al."

Al broke from Sam and smiled at Thelma. "Thanks." He continued watching the TV for a few minutes before swallowing tightly. "Excuse me. I think I'd better hit the head." Knowing the layout of the house, he turned and left the room.

"Guess he doesn't want us to see this is upsetting him," Sam said to his mother with an uneasy smile. The suddenness of Al's departure to the bathroom was a little surprising to him.

"Well, facing one's mortality can be difficult," Thelma agreed.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam and his mother waited for Al to rejoin them. After a few minutes, Sam started to get edgy. "He's taking a while, isn't he?" If Al hadn't run off to the bathroom as quickly as he had, Sam probably wouldn't have thought anything of it.

"Maybe he's just overwhelmed."

"Yeah, maybe. I think I'm gonna go check on him." Sam made his way to the bathroom and stopped outside the closed door. He felt just a little bizarre checking on Al but something in his gut was calling for him to do just that. Pulling in a deep breath and already mentally pushing aside any teasing from Al regarding his need to know, he knocked lightly on the door. "Al? You ok in there?"

There was no answer for a moment. Then an almost embarrassed sounding "No." came through the door.

"Al, what's wrong?" There was something about Al's tone of voice that set Sam even further on edge. He tried the doorknob but found it was locked. "Open the door. Let me in."

Again, there was a short pause but then the sound of the lock releasing was heard.

When Sam heard the lock snick open, he tried the knob again and pushed the door open. He stopped in shock when he saw Al. "Oh my God," he exclaimed softly before moving the few steps necessary to be by friend's side.

Al pulled a washcloth he was using away from his mouth and put it on the counter. He was pale. "I don't feel so good, Sam."

"What is this? What happened?" Sam asked as he picked up the washcloth and saw the blood on it. He held it so that the older man could see it. "Where did this come from?"

"I...um," Al started before turning away again to throw up in the toilet.

"Oh," Sam said softly when he saw the blood stained vomit. For a fleeting second he could feel a sort of panic grip him but he easily quelled it. Right now, Al needed him to think clearly and rationally and that's what he was going to do. He supported the older man until the vomiting ended then grabbed the washcloth for him. "You need to get to a hospital."

"You think that's necessary? Can't I just take some Maalox or something?" He paused. "That's always worked before."

"Maalox?" Sam queried in disbelief. "Al, you're vomiting blood. Maalox is not going to cure that." He rose and went to the bathroom doorway calling for his mother.

Thelma came around the corner. "What is it, Sam?"

"Can you call an ambulance, Mom? We need to get Al to a hospital." He didn't take the time to explain what was wrong before turning back to his friend. "What do you mean 'before'? You've vomited blood before this? Why the hell didn't you say anything?"

"It's never been this bad or this much," Al admitted sheepishly. "I didn't think there was anything to worry about."

"Never this much? Al, are you nuts?" Sam cut himself off before he could go on anymore. Taking care of his friend was more important than all the ways he could berate him for not saying anything sooner.

"Sam, what do I tell them? What's wrong?" Thelma asked from where she still stood in the bathroom doorway. Sam's request for an ambulance had taken her by surprise.

"Tell them he's vomiting blood," Sam quickly answered his mother before concentrating once again on his friend who'd now become his patient. He grabbed hold of Al's arm and pulled him from the bathroom to the bedroom across the hall and forced him to lie on the bed then grabbed his wrist to check his pulse. "Is this the only bleeding?" he asked once he'd finished with Al's pulse.

"Yeah," Al told him. "I've had indigestion for awhile is all. This is probably just from the stress of seeing the plane crash." He didn't add that the argument that he and Sam had and the resulting worry and frantic actions that had brought him to Hawaii had also added to the stress.

"This isn't just indigestion," Sam pointed out. He rested hand on Al's chest to count his respirations. "Hush," he commanded when his friend started to speak again. "You don't vomit blood with indigestion," he pointed out once he was done. He was wishing he had his medical bag with him so he could more thoroughly examine his friend but that was something he seldom, if ever, traveled with. In fact, he hardly ever used it. "You didn't answer my question, is this the only bleeding?"

"I did tell you, Sam," Al answered. "My stomach's the only place I see blood."

"I get that, Al. I mean besides the vomiting." Sam was trying to be as tactful as he could knowing that sometimes medical questions could embarrass his friend. That was an odd fact he'd never figured out. "I mean, has there been blood in your stool?"

"I haven't seen anything red. I admit that for the last week they've been darker than normal, but nothing major."

"A week." Sam rubbed his hands over his face. He was cataloguing every symptom he was seeing and that Al had admitted to and all the possible explanations. The one that stood out the most was a bleeding ulcer. The other one, the one that scared him the most was cancer. He didn't want to fill Al in on either diagnosis because, without the proper equipment, he could very well be wrong. "I'm gonna check with Mom and see how long the ambulance is going take. You stay put."

"Ok, Sam." Al didn't like the way Sam was acting. He'd seen his friend go into medical mode at the project and he knew all the signs. Now Sam was aiming his quite extensive medical knowledge in his direction. "This is really bad, isn't it, Sam?" he asked before the kid left the room.

Sam refused to tell Al anything he suspected. He wouldn't give him needless worry. "I don't know. That's why we need to get you to the hospital where they have the tools to figure this out."

"Ok." Al agreed, suddenly silent.

Sam went out to his mother to find out how long it would take the ambulance to get there. After finding out the information, he went back to the room he'd left Al in. He rushed to the door of the room when he saw Al coming out. "I said to stay put," he said in irritation and concern. He didn't get a chance to say more before Al paled even more and started to sink to the floor. Sam was just able to catch him before he fell. "Al?!" he called out in concern.

"I'm ok. I'm ok," Al mumbled although he was thankful for the firm grip Sam had on him.

"I thought I told you to stay put," Sam scolded.

"I know you said to stay put but then I started thinking about this and I just didn't want to be in here alone. Can't I wait for the ambulance in the living room?"

"No," Sam said with a shake of his head and some scolding in his voice. He supported Al back to the bed. "You almost passed out," he chastised. "This isn't a game. Don't you get that?"

"I get it, Sam. It's just..."

"No, 'justs'. You're staying put right there and I'm going to wait here with you." Having settled Al in the bed again, Sam took hold of his wrist again checking his pulse. "It's just gonna be a few more minutes."

"Ok," Al answered quietly.

"Ok," Sam echoed back. He was fighting an internal battle of his own. A part of him wanted to just panic and fall apart. This wasn't how things usually went. He wasn't the one who did the worrying like this. He couldn't afford to give into that panicky feeling right now, though. He had to keep his wits about him and take care of Al. There'd be time enough later for him to process what he was feeling. For now, he just had to keep stuffing his emotions as far down as he could.

Al watched Sam's eyes. He could see the kid wasn't as calm as he was trying to project. He wanted to tell Sam his fears but he felt it would be too much for his friend to handle. The fact was, his father had died of stomach cancer. It had crossed his mind the first time he'd seen blood that this was it but then nothing seemed to get any worse or at least nothing that couldn't be taken care of with some Tums or Maalox. Now though, he wondered if that scourge was catching up to him. "I'll be fine, Sam. You'll see," Al said to provide some comfort to his buddy.

"I know, Al." Sam forced what he hoped was a comforting smile to his face. "I guess I'm just not used to it working out this way. I'm usually the one flat on his back."

"Yeah, well, you've had enough. I'm not thrilled this is happening but I don't want you to have to deal with anything more."

"I guess. I'd rather be lying there instead of you, though. It's just easier." Faintly, in the distance, Sam could hear the wail of an ambulance getting closer.

"I'm glad you're not," Al reiterated. He noticed Sam's head turned slightly and realized what the high-pitched sound was. "You think they'll let you ride with me?"

Sam answered Al's question with one of his own. "Am I your physician right now?"

Al nodded. "Of course you are, Sam. I couldn't ask for a better doctor even if I knew any out here."

"Then they're not going to stop me from riding with you," Sam replied firmly.

"Good," Al answered. He could tell the ambulance was really close, maybe even outside the house. "Sam? No matter what happens, I just want you to know that being your friend has been one of the best things in my life." He could feel the pain in his stomach getting worse again and grimaced slightly, trying to keep the full extent off of his face.

"Just hang on, Al." Sam had seen the grimace and Al's effort to hide it. He turned as he heard people coming into the room.

As the two EMT's moved to assess Al, Sam gave them a run down on his condition. "He's had hematemesis times two and possible melena. There's been one syncopal episode. His pulse is rapid and thready." When the EMT in the lead looked oddly at him when he gave the detailed rundown, he explained, "I'm a doctor."

"Ok, Sir," the one EMT acknowledged. "We still need to do our job, though so if you could give us some room."

Sam nodded and moved out of the way.

While Sam and the lead EMT talked, the other attended to Al. She was definitely a looker. "You can take my pulse anytime," he told her.

The woman gave him a smile but was all business. "Thanks. I appreciate your cooperation."

Sam stood silently by while the EMT's examined Al. They contacted the hospital on the radio and relayed the information that Sam had given them as well as their own assessment of Al. The hospital ordered an IV started and for Al to be brought in.

"I'm riding with him," Sam stated in a firm voice.

"He's my doctor," Al said as back up.

"Ok," the EMT agreed reluctantly. "But you stay out of the way."

Sam nodded then turned to where Thelma was standing in the doorway, a silent witness to everything that had been going on. "Can you follow us in your car, Mom?"

"Of course, Sweetheart." She'd watched as the relief that Sam had felt that his friend was fine had turned quickly back to worry. This time she knew it had a basis in fact. "Just let me get my purse."

The EMT's transferred Al to the gurney they had brought in and rolled it through the house, Sam following. Thelma ran after them, holding one of Sam's sweaters in her hand. While the temperature wouldn't be cold, the wind could make it feel colder than it was. Sam absently took the sweater from his mother and gave her a kiss before catching up with his friend and the EMTs. They were just loading Al in the back when he got to the ambulance.

Al was looking around and when his eyes landed on Sam's, the tension in his face relaxed. "Oh, there you are. I thought maybe you changed your mind."

"I told you I wasn't going to leave you, didn't I?" Once the gurney had been loaded into the back of the ambulance, Sam climbed in next to the EMT who'd be riding in the back. A few moments later, the ambulance pulled away with its siren squealing.

Aside from the EMT updating the hospital, the ride was made mostly in silence. Sam had grabbed hold of Al's hand and every now and then would squeeze it reassuringly. It didn't take long before they arrived at the hospital. Reluctantly, Sam broke the hold between the two men. He knew this was as far as he'd be able to go with Al.

Sure enough, once they were in the hospital, he was prevented from going into the emergency room and was pointed in the direction of waiting room. "I'll be right out here," he called out to his friend just before the door swung shut cutting him off.

Sam drew a deep breath and stood looking at the closed door for just a few seconds before going over to the waiting room. He tried to sit to wait for his mother but was unable to stay still. He got up and started walking round the room. He was grateful that right now he was the only one in it.

Now that he was no longer responsible for Al's immediate care, he allowed the emotions he'd been pushing down earlier to rise to the surface. Relief that his friend hadn't been on the plane warred with the fear that there was something dire wrong with Al and he'd lose him anyway.

When Thelma arrived a short time later, she found him standing at the window staring out at the parking lot. "Have they said anything yet, Sam?" she asked as she rested a hand on his back.

Sam startled at the feel of his mother's hand and the sound of her voice. He did his best to cover up his surprise as he turned toward her, shaking his head. "No. Nothing yet. It's probably going to take them a while."

"Why don't we sit down then," Thelma suggested. She pulled on Sam's arm gently drawing him to a row of molded plastic seats. They were just sitting when a nurse came in looking for Sam.

"Do you have news about Al," he asked anxiously jumping up from the seat he'd just sat on.

"I'm sorry, not yet," the nurse said apologetically as she held out a clipboard with forms. "I was just bringing you this. Can you fill out as much as you can?"

Sam took the clipboard and sank back to the seat. "Yeah, sure," he said despondently. He started to flip through the pages, methodically filling out all of the information he knew. The nurse gave him and Thelma a hopeful smile before excusing herself.

Thelma watched as her son filled out the paperwork. He'd never had very neat penmanship but now, as anxious as he was, it was worse than usual. "You need to write that so they can read it, Sweetheart." She put out her hand to take the pen and clipboard. "I can do it if you want."

Sam pulled the two objects out of his mother's reach. "No. I'll do it." He returned to filling out the paperwork making a conscious effort to be as neat in his writing as he could.

Thelma sighed and sat back in the chair. She recognized the stubborn streak in her son coming out and knew there wasn't much she could do about it.

Sam finished filling out the forms and brought them back over the nurses' desk inquiring if there was any word on Al yet. There still wasn't.

Mother and son settled in to wait for the doctor to come out and let them know how their friend was. It was a little over an hour before anyone came to them. In that time, Sam had alternately sat still beside his mother or paced the circumference of the room. He didn't say much but Thelma had a feeling that he was probably blaming himself.

As soon as a doctor came into the room and asked who was with Al, Sam jumped up from where he'd sat again and nearly accosted the man. "What's wrong? Do you have a diagnosis yet?"

"Dr. Beckett?" the man queried. When Sam nodded, he indicated that they all sit down.

Sam was wary suspecting that if he was being asked to sit, then it must mean it was bad news. "What…what is it?" he asked swallowing heavily.

"We've done several tests on Admiral Calavicci including an endoscopy. He's got two ulcers on the lesser curvature of the stomach that are bleeding. He's going to need surgery to correct that."

"What do they look like?" Sam inquired. "How are the ulcers presenting."

The doctor smiled slightly at Sam's questions. "The admiral mentioned you were a medical doctor and might, in his words, grill me. They have a smooth base and perpendicular borders – no irregular borders."

Sam blew out a quick breath when he heard the description. "You're still going to biopsy, though, right. I don't want anything missed."

"Yes, we'll still do a biopsy to be sure."

Thelma looked between the two men not understanding what they were talking about. "I take it this should be easy to correct," she ventured.

"Well, we don't look at any surgery as easy," the doctor explained to Thelma, "but I guess this is as close as you get."

"Can I see him?" Sam inquired anxiously. "Before the surgery. Can I see him?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Beckett, he's already being prepped." The doctor stood up and started to move away. "The OR's on the third floor. There's a waiting room there where you might be more comfortable. Someone will be out to see you when the surgery is finished."

Thelma had overheard the conversation and stood up. She put her arm around her son. "Come on, Sam. We'll go up there and wait."

"Yeah, Mom," Sam said absently with a nod. He watched as the doctor left the waiting room.

Thelma could tell that Sam was as stressed as she'd ever seen him. Although knowing that the surgery could be problematic, she decided to be upbeat. "The Admiral's going to be fine. I can just feel it." She truly did feel that Sam's friend would pull through this.

"Yeah, Mom. I…I know." Sam didn't sound as sure as his words.

"Do you want to talk about how you're feeling? That might help," his mother offered.

"No, I don't," Sam said as the elevator doors opened and they got on. He pushed the button for the third floor then hit the wall beside the control panel. "Why does everyone always want me to talk about what I'm feeling? Don't I just get to feel without having to explain it?"

Thelma watched her son hit the elevator wall. "Of course you get to feel, son, but I know that sometimes you just push things down and you let things build. You've done it since you were little, not wanting to rock the boat. It's possible you've been doing that again. It might be why you showed up the way you did last night."

"Not now, Mom, ok." The elevator doors opened on the third floor and Sam walked out looking back over his shoulder. "Just not now."

"All right, Sam. Not now but promise me soon."

"Yeah, sure." Noticing the sign pointing the way to the waiting room, Sam led the way. It was a little more comfortable than the ER waiting room had been and they settled down to wait.

The time seemed to drag by while they waited for word. After the first hour, Sam got up and moved over to one of the windows looking out at the parking lot. "Did I ever tell you about the time Al took me to Las Vegas?"

Thelma had been thumbing through her third out of date magazine. She heard Sam's question and wondered if he was ready to open up a little. "No. I don't think you did."

"Yeah, he made me go there right after I started working at Star Bright. It was Labor Day weekend." He chuckled softly at the memory. "There was some convention or something at the hotel and they lost our reservations. Al almost blew a gasket."

"I wasn't entirely sure he was a good influence for you back then," Thelma admitted. "What did he do?"

"He got a suite somehow. I'm still not sure how he did but the manager came over then they took us to this suite." Sam came back over to sit by his mother. "You should have seen this place, Mom. It was huge and there was a bathroom in both bedrooms. The bathtub must have been as big as the swimming hole Tom, Katie and I used to swim in. Remember it?" His voice became more thoughtful. "I should've taken Al there so he could have seen more of where I grew up."

"Land's sake, Sam. Of course, I remember the swimming hole. Your father told me it had been the place to go in the summer's growing up in Elk Ridge." She smiled as he continued reminiscing. "I think Al would like to see that, Sam. I'm glad I was wrong about him. He's been a good friend."

"Yeah, a real good friend." He continued with his memories of the trip to Las Vegas. "I got a migraine when we were in Las Vegas. Al stayed with me, got a doctor to come to the room, you name it. It was the first time in a long time that I felt like there was someone who cared about me besides you and Dad." He looked down at the floor, embarrassed by his feelings. "It made me feel good...special."

"I hope you don't mind this question, but you two seemed so different back then. You'd just left school for the first time and the Admiral...well...he certainly wasn't the man he is now."

"We're still different, Mom. I guess back then I just saw something in Al – something special – and I wanted to help him out so everyone else would see that too." A brief smile touched his face. "I wasn't wrong."

"So, it was providence that you met. You were there for him. He's been there for you."

"Yeah. I guess so." Sam took a deep breath and blew it out. "I can't believe I was willing to let it slip away. I wish I could have seen him even for a minute before the surgery. Just long enough to tell him I was sorry and his friendship means more than anything to me...to make sure he knew I wasn't angry anymore and ask him to forgive me." He turned sad eyes on his mother. "What if I don't get that chance, Mom? How do I live with myself?"

Thelma's heart went out to him as he looked at her, the pain of his soul shining clearly through his eyes. "Sometimes, when things happen, they pull us away from what we know to be true." She paused, trying to decide what she should tell Sam and then decided that just maybe he needed to hear what she was about to say. "Al told me a little about what's happened these past few months. He wouldn't tell me much so don't worry. But what he told me was that he understood that you had been pushed to your limit. He understood, Sam. I don't think you need to worry about whether he'd forgive you, son."

His mother's words helped a little but they were her words. "I need to hear it from him." He leaned against his mother looking for solace. "He's my best friend, Mom. It's like...it's like he was sent into my life to help fill the holes Dad and Tom left behind. The hole will just be bigger without him." He glanced up at his mother. "I'm scared, Mom."

"I know, Sam. You've just got to trust that God will watch over him and will guide the hand of the surgeon," she said cupping his face in her hand.

Sam nestled into his mother's embrace. All he could do was wait, and like she'd said, pray.

The two continued to sit in vigil, each to their own thoughts and prayers. About a half hour later, the surgeon walked into the room wearing turquoise blue scrubs. It was Jamie Walters. He seemed surprised and somewhat uncomfortable. "Sam? Mrs. Beckett? You're here for Albert Calavicci?" He suddenly understood why the man had seemed so familiar. He'd met his current patient while treating Sam for the flu last year. Sam had come to Hawaii to recover after being hit by a car. That experience hadn't had the best resolution.

Hearing the voice, Sam quickly got up from the couch. He was shocked to see who had come into the room and his mouth opened and closed a few times without any words coming out. "What are you doing here?" he finally forced out.

"I'm Mr. Calavicci's surgeon, Sam."

"No. No one said you were the surgeon." Sam looked back to his mother, unsure what he should do or say.

"Well, I was." Jamie took a deep breath and let it out. "I know this is awkward but it is what it is. I imagine you'd like to know how things went.

Sam nodded slightly. "How is he?"

"He came through the surgery well and we've stopped the bleeding. I'm waiting on the results of the biopsy but I don't think there's any cancer. He is going to have to change his lifestyle - cut back on things like smoking and alcohol - or this is going to end up being chronic. He's in recovery right now. He'll be there for awhile, but you know that." Jamie took in both Thelma and Sam. "I'd suggest you both go home and come back in the morning but I don't think there's any chance of that. At least go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. Like I said, it's going to be a awhile before he's moved to a room."

"No," Sam said shaking his head. "I want to see him now and don't you dare quote me any rules about visitors not being allowed in recovery. I know you can make exceptions if you want."

Jamie studied the man in front of him. He owed him for the all of the grief he'd caused over the years, even though he didn't actually know about it until last year.. "Ok," he said giving in without a fight. "I'll take you back there but only for two minutes. You see him and then you come right back out. Understood?"

"Understood," Sam agreed.

Thelma has stood beside Sam, not saying anything but allowing her son to deal with the situation at hand. Now, still not speaking to the man that had caused so much pain to her son, she told Sam, "I'm going to go down to the cafeteria."

"I'll meet you there, Mom." As his mother excused herself, Sam looked back to the man who'd caused so much heartache. "Well," he prompted.

Jamie understood what Mrs. Beckett was doing. He didn't hold that against her. "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Beckett." He then turned to Sam. "Let's go."

Sam nodded and followed where he was led. Jamie brought him to a curtained off cubicle. When he pushed the curtain back, Sam drew in a quick breath. He'd seen people in recovery before - just never someone he was so close to. "Oh, Al," he said softly. His friend was still heavily under the influence of the anesthesia. He took note of the machines monitoring the man in the bed and their readouts then discarded them. He picked up the lax hand of his friend. "I'll be here when you're moved to your room, I promise. Just like you're always there for me." He hadn't noticed that Jamie had backed out to give him some privacy. The two minutes were up all too fast and reluctantly, he released Al's hand when he was told his time was up.

Jamie felt bad not allowing Sam to spend more time, but as he'd said, there was only so far he could go. As he walked out with Sam after retrieving him, he told him, "I know you two are good friends. You probably don't want to hear anything from me but I promise I'll give him the best care possible."

"I'm going to hold you to that and if anything happens to him, so help me God, I will make sure you are held accountable." Sam shoved passed the other man and stormed down the corridor to the elevator, stabbing the down button.

A part of Jamie wanted to lash back at Sam for his attitude but another part understood that he probably deserved worse. From what he understood from the last time he'd been in contact with Sam, he knew that his words said in the heat of emotion when his best friend - Sam's brother Tom - had been killed had haunted this man for years. He should have known. Tom had told him that Sam tended to internalize things deeply and he'd certainly seen that personally as well. With that in mind, he followed Sam to the elevator. "I understand you're angry, Sam. You have every right, but I'm not the same person I was back in Elk Ridge. I take my medical oath seriously."

"Not now," Sam growled. "I can't deal with this now." The elevator doors opened and Sam went in. "Just keep your word," he said as the doors closed.

Standing outside of the closed elevator doors, the doctor nodded. "I will." He then turned away to continue his duties.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Thelma bought a cup of coffee from the cafeteria line while she waited for Sam to join her. As she sipped at it, she considered the reversal of fate the two men had faced. While she was concerned about the Admiral, she couldn't help but be glad that her son hadn't been the one to go in for emergency surgery. On the other hand, this meant that Sam was the one waiting for news and she knew that wasn't his greatest strength. Sam was a doer. Sitting back and accepting that sometimes he had to let time address the issue would be a challenge for him.

The other thing she knew would be difficult for Sam was finding that Al's doctor was the very man that had made his sleep miserable for years. She knew that somehow that was going to come up. She wasn't thrilled to find this out but she did know that Jamie Walters was a good doctor. She hoped that Sam would see that too not to mention the Admiral. She finished her first cup of coffee and got a refill, wondering what was keeping her son.

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Sam entered the cafeteria and looked around. Spotting his mother sitting at a table by a window, he went over to join her.

Thelma smiled as she saw Sam walking to her but was concerned by this body language and expression. He normally had an energy about him that was like the Energizer Bunny but now, he looked simultaneously tired, worried, and irritated. She set herself to project a positive energy hoping that would help Sam as well. "Did you see the Admiral, Honey?"

"Yeah, Mom," Sam answered as he wearily took the seat across from his mother. "I saw him for a few minutes." He looked down at his hands that he'd clasped on the table. "He was still out from the anesthesia."

Thelma placed her hand on her son's clasped hands. "Sometimes it takes awhile to shake that off."

"Yeah, Mom. I know. He's going to be in recovery for another couple of hours." Sam looked past his mother and out the window behind her. "I just...I've never seen Al like that. He just looked so vulnerable. Even last Christmas when he had the gangrene, he didn't look like that."

"No," Thelma agreed with a small smile. "The Admiral strikes me as a man who seldom allows anyone to see his vulnerable side." She got up and pulled Sam up from his seat. She took his shoulder, angling him towards the cafeteria's food line. "Why don't we both get something for lunch? If I know you, you'll want to stay at the hospital until he's awake."

Sam was going to say he wasn't hungry but he knew his mother. She wouldn't accept that excuse and insist he eat anyway. He'd get something small to make her happy. "Sure, Mom. Maybe I'll get a bowl of soup."

"I wish you'd eat more than that," Thelma voiced although she knew her words were falling on deaf ears. She let out a long breath. At least he'd agreed to eat something. That was a start. Sam seldom, if ever, wanted to eat when he was under stress. "The vegetable soup looks good. It looks homemade. I think I'll get that and a half sandwich."

"Sure, Mom," Sam agreed although he hadn't completely heard what his mother had said. On autopilot, he moved to where the soup and salad bar was and filled a cup with vegetable soup. He grabbed a couple of package of crackers and waited for his mother by the register.

Thelma got her own lunch together and moved to where Sam was waiting looking deep in thought. She had a feeling it was all about his friend. She pulled her wallet out of her purse. "I'll get these, Son."

"No," Sam disagreed pulling his own wallet from his pocket. "I'll take care of it."

"I can..." she started but stopped when she saw insisting would just cause him more stress. "All right."

He waited while the cashier rang up the order then handed her a ten-dollar bill. Without waiting for change, he picked up the tray he'd put his soup and crackers on and went back to the table his mother had been sitting at when he arrived in the cafeteria.

Thelma watched Sam walk off as the cashier started to hand him his change. She knew Sam wasn't being rude but she also understood his distraction. Seeing that it was only a couple of dollars she gave him the benefit of the doubt and figured he'd just left it for the cashier. "Keep it. I'm sure he meant you to have it," she told the young woman.

"Oh." The cashier said, surprised. "That doesn't happen much here. Thank him for me."

"I will," answered Thelma before taking her tray to the table as well. Sam was sitting with the soup still on the tray in front of him, but he hadn't started to eat. "Do you want me take your tray, Honey?"

"I need a spoon," Sam said clearly distracted. "And I didn't get anything to drink." He didn't make a move to get up to get either item. "You think he'll be ok, Mom?"

Thelma sighed. She was right about where his head was. "Yes, I think the Admiral will be fine, Sam. I think it was providence that he came after you otherwise you may not have seen what was happening and gotten him treatment." As she talked, she removed first her food from her tray and then did the same with his. Putting the trays aside, she continued. "Here's a spoon. I got an extra one just in case and if you tell me what you'd like to drink, I'll get it."

"If he wasn't stressing about me, this probably wouldn't have ever happened." He stirred his soup with the spoon his mother had provided him. "Drink?"

"Yes, you said you didn't get anything to drink." She paused, clearly annoyed at a thought. "Is that what Jamie said? That you've caused the Admiral stress? If he did..." she trailed off, not verbalizing her thoughts of what she would do if Tom's old friend had hurt her younger son once more.

"Huh?" Sam was clearly not devoting his complete attention to his mother and, consequently, was ending up a step behind in the conversation. He took a second to replay what had been said. "No, he didn't say that. He doesn't have to. I know I cause Al stress."

She sat down in the chair next to him, ignoring his absent mindedness about the drink and concentrated on the issue at hand. She was glad that Jamie hadn't added any guilt to Sam this time. Still, she could see he was taking on enough without any help. "Sam, sweetheart, you and the Admiral have been through some rough times together but I don't think that he has begrudged a single minute of it." Knowing the two had talked before the ambulance arrived, she asked, "Did Al say when this started?"

"Not really," Sam replied softly with a shrug. He continued stirring the soup in the bowl. "Just a while." He tossed the spoon down. "Why didn't he tell me before this?"

"He probably didn't want to worry you, Sam."

"Yeah, that's right," Sam agreed wryly. "He wouldn't want to worry me. After all, there's no telling when I'll turn into some kind of basket case and tear apart a room again. Better to just protect me."

This was the second time that Sam had mentioned tearing apart a room. Thelma figured it might be a part of one of the situations she had learned about from her son and his friend but right now wasn't the time to press for an explanation. Thelma licked her lips slightly before continuing. "How much older is Al than you are?"

"What does that have to do with anything," Sam asked with a scowl.

"That doesn't answer my question, Sam." Thelma's voice was stern but still comforting. "How much older is he?"

Sam knew better than to argue with his mother when she spoke in that stern tone. It was a lesson he'd learned very early in life. If he had a stubborn streak in him, the one is his mother was twice as wide. If she wanted an answer from him, she was going to get it. "Almost twenty years."

"The Admiral is from my generation, not yours. It was learned behavior for many of us not to worry the ones we cared about, especially if it were medical. Add to that the fact that the Admiral made the military his career and that cements his way of dealing with things. I don't think he was making any kind of judgment on you."

"He doesn't think I can handle it." Sam turned away, looking out the window. "Hell," he said softly. "He's probably right. I haven't exactly been a stable person lately."

Hearing Sam's response, she decided to change her stance about the room. "What did you mean about tearing up a room? Did this have something do with the things you told me about? You'd occasionally do that as a child but that was when you were two or three."

Sam bit his lip as he realized he'd unintentionally told his mother more than he wanted her to know. He almost laughed as he realized that just as he was accusing Al of holding back to protect him, he was also guilty of doing the same with his mother. He decided to tell her at least a little of what had happened in Idaho – at least enough to explain the hotel room. "When we were in Idaho Al had to go out for something. I didn't think he was coming back – that he'd left me. I had a tantrum like I did when I was three and pulled the room apart. It was like I stepped out of myself and saw that I'd lost control but I couldn't do anything to stop myself." He paused for a few seconds as the hazy memories of that day came to him. "Al tried to stop me but I tricked him into thinking I was done. Dr. Beeks had to sedate me."

Thelma's heart sank as her son told her about this incident. When he was very little, he'd had tantrums when the reality of his greater intellectual abilities didn't match with his emotional maturity. However, her son's soul was also keenly attuned to other's feelings at an early age as well and he'd realized that tantrums weren't productive. He struggled to get control over his emotions but had done so finding other ways to deal with situations. Hearing now he'd lost that control, unshed tears filled her eyes. Using one of her napkins to dab at her eyes, she spoke softly, "You've lost so much in your life. We all have. I think the Admiral, though, has helped you fill that hole. Why did you think he was leaving?"

Again, Sam was at a slight loss for words. He didn't know how to answer the question without sharing more than he wanted to - than he was ready to. His reluctance to speak of the events that befell them while in Idaho wasn't just based in wanting to protect his mother. It was also based in the fact that he just wasn't ready to verbalize it yet - at least not in a rational way that wouldn't lead to some kind of outburst. "I can't explain, Mom," he finally said with a small shake of his head. "It was a tough time for me. That's all I can really say about it right now." He drew his gaze from the window to his mother's face. "I wish I could tell you more but I just can't right now."

Although she didn't completely, she put her hand out to Sam's and patted it. "I understand, honey. You'll tell me when you're ready." She paused. "If it means anything to you, I don't think you need to worry about that. The Admiral has shown he's there for the long haul." Thelma smoothed her hand over her son's head comfortingly. "How about if I get you some ginger ale? Would you like that?"

"Yeah, Mom. That sounds good."

Sam and Thelma finished their lunch mostly in silence then went back to the surgical waiting room to wait until Al had been moved to his room. Sam didn't pace the room as he'd been doing before and, instead, sat quietly lost in thought. Sometime later a nurse came to tell them that Al had been moved to his room and they could go up to see him.

Thelma wondered if Sam would want her with him when he saw his friend. "Honey, do you want to go on? I'll follow you in a few minutes."

"No, Mom. You can come in too."

"You're sure?" She asked, not wanting to intrude.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm sure." They followed the nurse's directions to Al's room. Once there, Sam pushed open the door and stepped just inside of it. A nurse was just finishing adjusting the IV. "How's he doing?" Sam asked.

"Not bad," the nurse answered. "He's still pretty groggy from the anesthesia. He's mostly in and out of it." She moved to a whiteboard on the wall by the door and jotted some information on it. "My name's Chrissie. Let me know if he needs anything."

Thelma walked over to Sam, putting her hand on the small of his back and rubbing lightly to show her support but didn't say anything, allowing him to handle this situation the way he felt best.

"Thanks," Sam said offering the nurse a small smile as she left. He briefly studied what was written on the whiteboard then picked up the chart at the foot of the bed and scanned it. Moving to the head of the bed, he tilted the IV bags so he could see what was written on them then watched the heart monitor Al was still hooked up to for a few seconds. Satisfied with what he saw, he pulled a chair over to the bed and sat on it, picking up Al's hand. "Hey, Al. You in there, buddy? You're not gonna sleep all day, are you?"

Al's eyes move under his eyelids and his head tilted to the voice. "Huuhhhh?" was all that exited from the man.

Sam was encouraged by the small noise. "Al, it's ok. You take your time and wake up." He squeezed the older man's hand lightly. "I'm here. I'm right here just like you're always there for me."

A small smile crossed the groggy man's lips. "Sammy," he slurred in a barely heard whisper. He continued to sleep for a while.

Thelma pulled up a chair and sat down, pulling out the knitting she had brought with her. She continued to quietly keep Sam company, occasionally looking up to see how he was handling the wait. It set her mind at ease that he was doing quite well.

"Mom, you don't have to stay," Sam said after they'd been sitting for about an hour. "It's going to be a while before he's coherent. Why don't you go home? I'm going to stay."

"I want to be here for you, Sam," Thelma answered as she continued knitting the light sweater for Sarah.

"Mom, we've been here for hours. Please, go on home. I know you must be tired. I'll be fine. I promise."

Thelma gauged her son. He truly seemed to be ready for her to go. The things she'd heard that day from both him and the Admiral caused her to consider pushing to stay but she knew that Sam cherished the confidence that she showed in him. Starting to put away her knitting, she nodded. "All right, Sam. I'll go home but only if you promise you'll call me if things get difficult for you. I don't want any of this 'can't let Mom know about it' this time. I love you, Honey, and I'm here for you."

"I promise, I'll call but I'll be fine. I'm just going to stay 'til Al really wakes up then I'll get a cab back to the house."

She smiled. "Then I'll go back and start on dinner. Fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy sound good?"

"No, Mom," Sam quickly said. "Don't cook anything. It's going to be a while until I get back. I'll just go down to the cafeteria again." When it looked like she was going to insist, Sam added, "It'll just be a waste."

"Fried chicken keeps in the refrigerator, Sam."

"Mom." Although Sam wasn't feeling as on edge as he had earlier - seeing Al and that he was doing as good as he was had helped to allay some of his anxiety - he still wasn't up to a debate. "Don't, ok. I don't want you to go through the trouble of making it and then it doesn't get eaten. Please."

Thelma, realizing that this wasn't a battle to be fought, sighed. "Fine. I won't." She reached out her hand to take hold of his shoulder. "Just make sure you take care of yourself while you're taking care of the Admiral. Ok?"

"I will, Mom." Hearing a small sound coming from the man in the bed, Sam turned to him. "Al? It's ok. I'm here."

Seeing that her son's attention was now otherwise occupied, Thelma kissed him on the cheek, said goodbye and slipped form the room.

After his mother had left, Sam settled on the chair he'd pulled by the bed. He was determined that he was going to be in that spot when Al woke up.

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The room was dimly lit when Al woke with a groan. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up since the surgery but it was the first time he felt fully in control of his wits.

When he was first brought to his room, Sam and Thelma had both been there waiting for him. Sam had looked so worried but seemed to be holding up fairly well. When Al had been told about the bleeding ulcer and that he needed emergency surgery because of it, his first thought had been how that news would affect Sam. The kid was strung out and on edge as it was.

Feeling a weight on the side of the bed, Al raised his head slightly to see what it was and discovered it was the object of his thoughts. Sam had rested his arms on the mattress and had slumped over to pillow his head on them. His soft, even breathing told Al that he was sleeping. Since his face was tilted in Al's direction, the older man was able to study him for a few moments. Despite everything, the younger man actually seemed to be sleeping peacefully at the moment.

He didn't want to pull Sam from the peaceful respite but knew that if he continued to sleep in the position he was in, he'd be awfully sore when he did wake up. He moved his hand to brush it over Sam's the younger man's head and called out his name softly. When he did, he realized his voice was more of a croak and that he was extremely thirsty.

At the first sound of Al's voice and the touch of his hand, Sam was instantly awake. He straightened up quickly and blinked in the gloom of the room. "Al? You're awake?"

"Yeah, I'm awake, Kid. I would have let you keep sleeping but you looked uncomfortable all hunched over like that."

At the mention of the position he'd been in, Sam started rubbing his neck and lower back. "It's ok. I know you've slept in hospital chairs plenty of times for me."

Al drew a deep breath ready to remind Sam that it wasn't about payback but aborted saying anything. It was ground they'd covered so many times in the past and, frankly, he just wasn't physically up to it now. "You think I can have some water, Kid?"

Sam looked at his friend apologetically and shook his head. "Not yet. They left some ice for you." He picked up the cup of ice chips and held a spoonful out to Al. "Kind of feels weird being on this side of the ice chips."

"I'm glad it's not you, Sam." Al opened his mouth to permit Sam to feed him the ice. As he did, he looked at his friend closely. The younger man looked exhausted. Al knew that he most likely hadn't gotten any substantial sleep since the night before the DA called…however long ago that was. That and the stress of the past several days were showing their toll on Sam. His eyes were dull with dark shadows under them. Even his color looked off – too pale. "Your Mom go home?"

Guessing that Al had had his fill of the ice chips, Sam put the cup back on the table and sat by the bed again. "Yeah. I sent her home some time ago. It was getting late. I didn't want her to get tired."

"You should have gone with her, Kid."

Misinterpreting the intent of Al's words and thinking that he didn't want him to be there, Sam hung his head. "I wanted to be here when you woke up. I…I was really worried about you."

Correctly guessing that Sam hadn't realized that he what he'd said had been said out of concern, Al quickly tried to reassure him. "Hey, that's not what I mean, Sam. I'm glad you're here. I'm just worried about you. You need to go get some real sleep in a bed not that chair." When Sam continued to look down at the floor without responding, Al prompted him. "Hey, Sam. Look at me, will ya, Kid."

At the request, Sam's head slowly came up. "I was worried, Al. I thought I was going to lose you and I never…I never…"

"It's ok, Sam," Al cut him off. "I know. I know."

"No, it's not ok," Sam contradicted then stopped himself from saying anymore. He closed his eyes and began to breathe slowly, counting as he did. Al had just woken up from surgery. This was not the time to get into any kind of disagreement for any reason. "I wanted to be here," he said calmly when he opened his eyes. "I **had** to be here. I had to see you were really going to be ok and that I hadn't lost the chance to make things right with you." He looked pointedly at his friend. "You would have done the same thing."

Al was about to protest but had to agree. "Yeah. I probably would have." He gave Sam a slightly crooked smile. "But you're supposed to the smarter one between us."

"Not all the time," Sam mumbled. "Are you in a lot of pain," he asked louder, eager to do whatever he could to make sure his friend was comfortable. "Do you need me to call a nurse to get some pain meds for you or anything?"

"No. I'm ok, Kid." Al reached out for Sam's wrist before he could make good on his offer. He looked at him objectively. His friend looked like hell and Al was pretty sure why. "You know, I've lost track of time. Can you catch me up?" he asked in a deceptively off the cuff fashion.

"Catch you up? On what?" Sam asked confused. "You just had surgery."

"I got that, Sam," Al said dryly. "Remember who's on what side of the railing this time." He paused to let that sink in and then asked again, "I mean....how long have I been out? What's happened? You know I don't really know much after they rushed me into emergency."

"I'm not sure...I mean how long you were out." Sam had to admit he wasn't even sure what time it was. He'd lost track a long time ago.

"Well, if you don't know then both of us are out of the loop."

"I'm sorry. I guess I just lost track of the time." Sam looked down at his left wrist where his watch usually was. "I never put on my watch today so I'm not even sure what time it is. I guess it's late," he said noticing how dark it was outside. "Jamie said the surgery went well," he continued. "You're going to make a complete recovery but you're going to have to change some things."

"Like what?" Al hadn't picked up on Sam's mention of the doctor's name.

"Well, things like smoking, alcohol. You need to cut stuff like that out." Sam looked away as he added, "It wouldn't hurt if there was less stress, too."

Al paused. "I'm not sure I'm willing to completely cut everything out of my life, Sam. What's life if you can't have a little fun?"

"What's life if you're dead?" the younger man quickly countered. He knew how hard it would be for the man in the bed to cut those things out of his life. "You need to at least cut back, Al. I don't want this to happen again."

"Well, I don't want this happening again either. I'll just learn to moderate my desires. Ok?"

"Yeah, I guess..." Sam was cut off by a yawn before he could finish what he was saying. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"How long have you been here?" Al asked.

"I told you, I don't know," Sam reminded. "I'm ok. Just a little tired is all."

Al sighed. "You look exhausted Kid. You really should go home. I'm ok."

"Uh uh. No way," Sam said vigorously shaking his head. "I'm going to stay right here with you just like you've done for me."

"Sam," Al said as kindly as he could. "This isn't quid pro quo. Just because I do something doesn't mean you have to do the same thing too."

"I know that. I want to stay. Can't I do it because I want to?" Sam wasn't quite up to admitting that he wasn't completely convinced that if he didn't keep Al in his presence, something might happen to him. He wasn't feeling the same anxiety he had a couple of months ago but he still wasn't ready to leave yet.

Al sighed lightly. When the kid was stubborn, the kid was stubborn. "Well, I still say you should be back at your own home. In your own bed. Not getting a crick in your neck."

"My own bed's in New Mexico, remember?" Sam said with a light laugh. "I don't think I'm up to that trip at the moment.

"Wise ass," Al grumbled good-naturedly. "You know exactly what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," Sam agreed softly. "I really want to stay."

"Ok, Kid," Al finally gave in. "At least tell me you've been eating."

"Um, yeah," Sam hedged. "I had some soup down in the cafeteria. It was really good. And I had some crackers, too." He neglected to mention that the soup he had was what he'd had for lunch. The only thing he'd eaten since then was a package of graham crackers and apple juice one of the nurses had brought in to him.

"Just soup and crackers?" Al asked. "Geez, Sam, that's not much."

"Al!" Sam said sharply then quickly moderated his voice. "Stop worrying about me, ok? You don't need to be putting yourself under stress. I'm fine."

Al was surprised by Sam's sharpness and winced slightly. When Sam changed his tone, he looked at him as if he wasn't sure that was the case. "Yeah? I hope so, Kid. I truly hope so."

"I'm sorry," Sam quickly apologized when he saw his friend wince. He knew it had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the way he'd spoken. "You just...you need to take care of yourself right now and not worry about me. You need to rest and get well." He lowered his voice still more, looking slightly above his friend. "I need you too much for you not to get well."

Al took a breath before telling his friend how he felt. "Sam, the fact that you came to Hawaii like you did tells me there's still reason to be concerned. When I left today, I was sure that giving you time to think was the best thing to do. I got to the airport and bought my ticket. I even got to the gate but while I was sitting there, I realized that I needed to come back. At least talk to you about what's been going on between us this year. I still think we need to talk and I'm still going to worry about you."

Sam nodded slightly. "I know. We do need to talk but not tonight. When you get out of here, then we'll talk." He looked intently at the man in the bed. "I'm giving you my word on that, Al. I won't run away this time."

"You never run from things, Sam. You face them head on. That's why I was worried when you left." Al paused before continuing. "I'm the one you keep thinking's going to leave. I'm not. I'm staying. That's what friends do. However..." he said as Sam started to answer him, "you've got to understand that sometimes when you're ready to face something, I need time to put things in perspective. We're different that way, Kid. 'Doesn't mean that either of us is right or wrong, it just means we have different ways of handling things."

"How come you make so much sense after surgery?" Sam asked with a light laugh. "I always sound like I just got a lobotomy." He pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. He wanted to broach an idea with Al but wasn't sure how he'd take it. "Verbena said it might be a good idea if we did some sessions with her together so maybe I can get past this hang up I've got about you leaving. She said she'd talk with you about it. Is it something you'd do?"

Al gave Sam a sardonic grin. "Because you're a mega-genius. You have a lot further to drop and anesthesia just helps that along." When he heard Sam's request he reached out and took Sam's forearm. "Yeah, Verbena mentioned it to me. Of course. You know I'll do anything to help." He squeezed his friend's arm lightly and decided now might a good time to make sure he went home for some rest. "Now that I've given you that promise, you want to make one for me?"

"What?" Sam asked guardedly although eager to do whatever he could for his friend.

"I want you to promise me you'll go back and spend some time with your Mom. We'll be back in New Mexico together before you know it. You came all the way to Hawaii so take advantage of the opportunity." He gave a larger grin, "besides, you'll cramp my style when I make a pass at the nurses."

Sam heard Al's words but shook his head. "No. I want to stay here with you - keep you company. I know what it's like to be alone in a hospital room. Mom understands."

Al caught Sam's gaze. "You know what it's like for you to be alone in a hospital room," he said bluntly. "It's not that I don't want your company, Sam. It's that if you're here taking care of me, you're not taking care of yourself. You tell me you don't want me to worry? Then let your Mom spoil you rotten. Then I'll know you're ok and that will keep me from worrying. Besides," he added hoping to find the one thing that would send Sam back to rest, "how am I supposed to sleep when you're sitting there watching me?"

Sam felt caught between a rock and hard place. Al was using his own words against him. If he insisted on staying, he was causing that stress he'd told his friend he had to avoid but if he did leave, he couldn't keep his own watch on Al. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he finally forced out, "But I'm taking care of myself."

"Sam? Buddy? It's not like I'm going anywhere. I'm just going to get a good night's sleep." When he could see Sam settling into a good stubborn he let out a breath. "Listen. You've sent me home before and when I feel you're going to be ok, I've gone. I'm going to be fine, Kid. Don't you believe that?"

"Yeah, I do." Sam couldn't fault Al's logic. It was true that he'd sent Al home in the past. It just felt a whole lot different on the other side of it. "You're sure, Al? You're really sure you don't want me to stay and keep you company. I will. All you have to do is tell me."

"I know that, Sam. That's like knowing the Pope's Catholic but really, I want you to go back and get a good night's sleep. You can keep me company tomorrow if I'm still here."

"You'll still be here, Al. You did just have surgery," Sam reminded.

"You don't think you could convince 'em to spring me early, huh?"

"No chance. You'll be here for at least a couple of days. Hopefully you'll get out in time for Thanksgiving."

Al sighed and tried to give Sam an irritated look. "You're a real killjoy sometimes, you know that Kid."

Despite the words used, Sam knew there was no heat behind them. "Yeah," he said with a light laugh. "Just call me Sam the Killjoy."

"Well, if I'm not gonna get out of here for a couple of days, that means you'll be spending a lot of time here too so, for now, you need to go and get some rest," Al said forcefully. "I'm not joking, Sam. I'll sleep better and I won't be worrying if I know that's what you're doing. Now, are you going to make me that promise?"

"Ok," Sam said reluctantly. "I'll go back to the house if it's going to make you happier." He looked around and spotted a small pad of paper on the bedside table and a pencil. He grabbed both, wrote a number down, and handed it to Al. "That's the number at Katie's. I don't know if you have it. If you need anything, I mean **anything** during the night, you call me."

Al accepted the piece of paper with the number and looked briefly at it. "I promise, Sam. If I need anything, you'll be the first to know. Now, will you get going before they have us sharing a room?"

"Ok." Sam looked briefly around the room hoping to see something that could delay his departure. Seeing nothing, he moved slowly to the door. "Good night, Al," he said as he paused in the doorway. "I'll be back as soon as they'll let me in tomorrow."

Al smiled at his friend. "I know you will. That's something I never doubted. Have a good night, Sam."

After another few seconds pause hoping that the older man would change his mind, Sam nodded his head once and left the room.

Al waited until enough time had gone by before calling for a nurse. He didn't want Sam to see the light over his room door going on and come charging back in. He was almost distracted from his reason for ringing when an attractive brunette came through the door. "Is there something you needed, Admiral Calavicci?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I need to make a phone call. You think you can help me out?"

"Sure." The nurse moved the phone on the side table so that it was within Al's reach. "There anything else you need?"

There were any number of answers Al could have given to that question but didn't think it would be wise. "I'm starting to feel some pain. Do you think I could get something for that?"

"Of course," the nurse agreed. "I'll be right back."

Once the nurse had left the room, Al dialed the number that Sam had written down. He winced guiltily when Thelma's worried voice answer the phone then quickly identified himself. "Thelma, it's Al."

"Al!" Thelma exclaimed in surprise. "I didn't expect to hear from you tonight. I thought you might be Sam calling. Is he still there with you?"

"Well, that was actually why I was calling. I just sent him home a couple of minutes ago and wanted to let you know to expect him. I was wondering if you can make sure he gets something to eat when he gets there. He said he had some soup earlier but I know him. He eats next to nothing when something's got him upset and a blind man could see that's how he is right now."

Al's simple statement about her son's condition was both a cause for concern as well as affection for Thelma. She was concerned that Sam was being so deeply affected but her affection for Al grew. This man knew her son and knew him well and his welfare was of concern to him. Once more, she was grateful that Al Calavicci had come into her son's life. "You know my son well," she commented. "I'll make sure he has something to eat when he gets here."

"He's going to fight you on that," Al pointed out needlessly. "Just give him something light. That's all I can usually convince him to eat."

"Don't worry, Al. I'll take good care of him. How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm ok, Thelma. You know, I'm a tough guy."

"Yes, I know how tough you are." The smile on Thelma's face came through the phone as she remembered the times she'd witnessed the self-proclaimed 'tough-guy' live up to anything but that image while caring for her son. "You still best take care of yourself."

"I will, Ma'am. Just take care of Sam."

"You know I will. You should rest now, Al. I'll come by tomorrow to see you."

The phone call was just finishing up as the nurse came back with the pain medication. As it was injected into him, Al let out a sigh of relief. Not only because his physical pain would be relieved but also because he knew that Sam would be in good hands.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

After Al's call, Thelma had thought about how to address the man's concern. Sam had asked her not to fix anything for him. Still, she could have some things ready to make a sandwich or soup. She set about pulling things together, ready to give him a few options when he came in. Once everything was done, she went back into the living room to continue the sweater for Sarah. To keep her company, she had on the radio tuned to the classical station and soon was knitting to the rhythm of the music.

It was about 15 min later when she noticed diffuse but bright light entering through the living room window. Putting aside her project, she got up to go to the door. Sam was finishing paying the taxi driver as she opened the door. She watched her son interact with the man and was once again proud of his consideration of others. While she loved all of her children fiercely, he had always held a special place in her heart.

Sam was just reaching the front door when it opened. The late November air was chilly for Hawaii and he was wishing he had something more substantial than just the cotton shirt he had on. "Hi, Mom," he greeted his mother as he stepped in the open door. "I didn't think it got this cool in Hawaii."

"Well, we don't get the extremes in temperature like you do in the west, but we do have some variation." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm glad you're home, Honey. You look tired." She could feel the goose bumps on his arm. "Where did you leave your sweater, Sam?"

"Sweater? I...uh...." He wracked his brain trying to remember what sweater he'd had and where he'd last had it but couldn't come up with anything. "I had a sweater?"

"Yes, Sam." She sighed. "I don't know why I'd think you'd remember. You were never good about things like that."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I don't remember. I had a lot on my mind today." He was more irritated with himself than his mother's statement. First he couldn't tell Al what time it was and now he couldn't remember having a sweater with him.

"Well, maybe you left it in the room with Al." She'd heard the Admiral's assessment of himself but now wanted Sam's. "How is the Admiral?"

"No, I never had it in there," Sam replied somewhat distracted. He missed his mother asking about Al's wellbeing as he tried to remember where the elusive article of clothing could have ended up. After a day of worrying about his friend, fatigue was catching up with him fast and his mind seemed to wander to the more mundane. "I don't think I ever had it in the hospital with me. I must have left it in the ambulance."

"That's ok, Sweetie," she said patting his arm lightly. "We can call the ambulance company tomorrow and see if they have it."

"Um, yeah, I guess," Sam responded but he was clearly distracted still trying to remember even having the sweater in his possession. He tried to cover up the yawn that snuck out. "I'm tired and I guess I'm just not thinking straight right now."

"I can see. Would you like something to eat? A sandwich? Some soup, perhaps?"

"No. I don't want anything." He picked up the phone again. "I should call the hospital and make sure Al's all right." He stared at the numbers for a moment before realizing he didn't know what the phone number was. "I don't know the number. I don't even know what hospital it was." He turned to face his mother, panic starting to grow in his eyes. "Where's Al, Mom? What hospital was that?"

Thelma took the phone from her son's hand and hung it before grasping both of his arms. As tired as he was and as much as his mind was wandering, she wanted to head off any kind of panic attack before it could happen. She kept her voice calm but authoritative when she spoke to him. "Sam, calm down. It was Queen's Medical center and it's late. You can call tomorrow. I'm sure Al's fine." She kneaded his arms gently waiting until she got the smallest of nods from him. "Why don't you go take a shower," she suggested. "I bet you'll feel better if you do."

"A shower? Yeah, ok." Sam made his way to the guest room he was using. The bed had been turned down and his sleeping clothes were folded in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. A clean pair of boxer shorts and socks were also in the pile and a towel was next to it. His mother must have left it out for him.

Picking up the clothes and towel he went to the bathroom across the hall and started the water running in the shower. After stripping out of the clothes he had on and making sure the water was warm enough, he got into the shower. He didn't take long as he felt himself growing more and more weary and was afraid he'd fall asleep right there with the water cascading over him.

He turned off the water, got out of the shower, and toweled off. Wearily, he pulled on the boxers, t-shirt, and sweatpants that comprised his sleeping attire for the night. Bunching up the clothes he'd taken off, he took them and the pair of sock back to the guest room. He dropped his laundry on top of his bag and sat on the bed to put the socks on. Glancing at the pillow, it occurred to him how inviting it looked. He leaned over to rest his head on it planning to stay like that for just a couple of minutes. His body had other ideas, though, and within a minute his eyes had closed and his body relaxed in sleep.

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Once Sam had gone back to his room, Thelma went into the kitchen and started the soup. She could hear the shower and when it went off; she put some of the soup into a bowl and set it out at the kitchen table. When Sam failed to come in after nearly fifteen minutes, she went back to his room. She tapped lightly on the door but didn't hear an answer. Pushing it open slightly, she made out the form of her son sprawled half on and half off the bed, deeply asleep. "Oh, sweetie, you were tired," she said to herself. Going over to him she whispered lightly as she'd done when he was a child, "Come on Sam, get under the covers. I'll tuck you in."

Sam didn't truly wake up but obediently, if clumsily, moved so that he was properly on the bed. His mother pulled up the covers expertly. "Just rest, honey. Lord knows you need it." She bent down and kissed him. "Night, Sammy."

"Night, Mama," Sam mumbled in his sleep then rolled over so that he could burrow more deeply under the covers.

Thelma turned off the light and padded out of the room, closing the door behind her. The soup would have to wait. Sometimes, sleep was just better.

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It was 9 am in the morning and Al was getting a little antsy. Until he met Sam, he hadn't really understood the concept of 'up with the chickens' but that was yet another of their differences. This morning he'd checked his phone at least 4 times to make sure it was working. Now, he wasn't sure what was happening.

Sure, the kid was tired when he'd left. Al could see that in his face and body language. Thelma hadn't called so he was positive that Sam had made it home safely. Still, even when Sam burned the midnight oil, he'd be up the next morning bright and early. The only exception was when one of two things happened. Either he'd gotten ill again or he'd reach that stage when his body just took the rest it needed despite his feelings to the contrary. Al was hoping it wasn't the former as he dialed the number Sam had left for him to reach Thelma's home. The phone rang 2 times before it was picked up.

When the phone rang, Thelma turned down the flame under the pan she was cooking in and went to answer it before it could ring again. She didn't want its ringing to wake Sam. "Hello."

"Thelma? This is Al. I was just...um...wondering..." He took a breath, realizing how silly and over-anxious he might sound. "...I was just wondering if Sam's ok."

A small smile played around Thelma's lips when she heard the question. Even ill and in the hospital, Al couldn't seem to stop himself for being concerned for her son. "He's sleeping right now."

"Still?" Al wasn't able to keep the surprise out of his voice even though that had been one of the possibilities. Thinking back to the few times he'd seen this happen he said with some resignation, "Then he'll probably sleep a while longer. He must have hit the proverbial wall."

"He did seem awfully tired last night. He fell asleep before he could even eat anything." Thelma wondered if she should share any of her concern with her son's friend. She'd gone into his room twice during the night to check on him. Both times he'd been deeply asleep but she'd noticed he felt a bit warm when she'd brushed her hand over her face.

She quickly decided that it would be unwise to upset Al. The chances were it was just because he was bundled up in the blankets that Sam had felt warm and not because anything was wrong. "He should be getting up soon. I was just making some breakfast for him."

"I was hoping he'd be able to eat at least. Guess he'll just need to have a good breakfast to make up for that - not that he'll have any problem getting that when you're cooking."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure he has a good breakfast before he heads back your way." Thelma didn't delude herself into thinking that Sam wouldn't head to the hospital the first chance he got. If she had to tie him to one of the kitchen chairs to make sure he ate before he left, though, that's exactly what she'd do.

Al laughed, "Oh I'm not worried, I just..." He hadn't noticed the door opening to his room until the person opening it had stepped in. Seeing the man standing in the doorway caused Al's eyes to narrow. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked away from the phone receiver with a hint of anger in his voice. He turned back to the phone. "I'll have to get back to you, Thelma," he said right before hanging up the phone. "I don't know how you found out I was here but if you think you can get to Sam..."

"I'm not here to 'get to Sam'," Jamie said with a sigh. "I'm your doctor but if you have any problems with that, I'm sure someone different can be assigned."

"Does Sam know about this?" Al asked suspiciously. He was having a tough time believing that Sam would know Jamie Walters was the doctor treating him and not say anything – not given the history between the two. He'd also be damned if he was going to let this man do anything that could cause any more emotional hurt to his friend. The kid had enough going on as it was.

"Yeah, he knows. I talked with him last night already. And before you ask, I wouldn't say he was very happy about it."

"Oh, I just bet he wasn't happy and that's even if you're telling me the truth."

"I…" Jamie started to say but was cut off.

"You nothing. Why should I believe anything from you where Sam is concerned? You did a nice job of keeping it secret from his family how you tore him apart for twenty years. You think I think you're any different right now."

Jamie didn't say anything, looking down at the floor. There was some small amount of truth to what the man was saying. "Look, I'm just going to leave right now. I don't think you're up to this kind of exertion."

"Yeah, you just do that." Al watched in satisfaction as the doctor left his room.

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"Who was that on the phone," Sam asked as he came in the kitchen and saw his mother hanging up.

"That was Al," she replied with a puzzled look. "He hung up rather abruptly. Based on what I heard him say before he did, I think he just found out Jamie Walters is his doctor."

"Uh oh." Sam realized he hadn't prepared his friend for that. Based on Al's reaction when he found out about the run-in he and Jamie had had all those years ago, Sam knew that the meeting probably wouldn't go well. "I better get dressed and get down there before war breaks out."

Thelma grabbed hold of his arm before he could leave. "Hold it right there. You're not going anywhere until you sit down and have a decent breakfast."

"But…" Sam tried to protest but he was cut off.

"No 'buts', Sam. Whether you go now or wait until after you've eaten there's still not going to be much you can do." Thelma pointed to one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "Now sit and eat."

Sam weighed his options of doing as his mother told him or leaving right away. Acknowledging that she was probably right that he wouldn't get there in time to stop the the first battle of the war, he heeded her order and sat down.

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After eating the breakfast that Thelma had made and insisted he sit and eat, Sam rushed off to the hospital. He borrowed his mother's car instead of calling a taxi. He was worried about all the ways Al could possibly be dealing with finding out that Jamie Walters was the doctor treating him and wanted to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He was feeling a little guilty about not preparing his friend for that.

When he pushed the door open to Al's room, he was pleased to see that it didn't look like there was any bloodshed. The man in the bed, however, did not look very happy. "You, uh, didn't hide the body somewhere did you?" Sam asked hoping for some lightness.

"Huh?" Al questioned, not sure what Sam was talking about. Seeing the slightly guilty look on his friend's face, he narrowed his eyes as he put two and two together. "You're not talking about Dr. Walters are you?"

"Um...yeah. From what Mom said, sounds like he was in here this morning." Sam approached the bed and stood next to it. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down looking very much like a naughty child who'd been caught. "I guess I forgot to tell you about him last night."

Al blinked at Sam. "You forgot to tell me..." He looked away for a moment gathering his thoughts. He figured he needed to get Sam's thoughts now. When he'd raked Dr. Walter's over the coals earlier, he thought the man had been lying that Sam knew about him treating him. He hadn't let him say much after that, telling him to leave. "You knew? How do you feel about this?"

"I don't know." Sam pulled the chair over closer to the bed and sat down. "I know he's a good doctor. I did some checking when I found out about him. If he weren't, I'd have made sure you had someone different."

"Ok. Then physically I probably don't have something left inside me. That's a plus." He looked at Sam's face, trying to ascertain what he really wanted to know. "That man put you through unnecessary hell, Sam, and you've certainly had to deal with too much hell recently. I want to know how," he said with special emphasis on the how, "you're feeling about this."

"I don't know." Sam said again. When he saw his answer wasn't good enough, he tried to expand on it. "I'm trying not to think about that, ok. I've got enough I've been trying to deal with and if I add in all that past stuff..." He shook his head a couple of times. "I don't think I'll be any good to anyone."

"I can get a different doctor then. I don't want you to have to deal with him at all."

"No," Sam responded firmly. "I told you I checked on him. He's the best gastroenterologist on staff here. I want you to have the best. I'll just have to handle it as best I can." He looked away from Al for just a few seconds. "Maybe it's time for some forgiveness."

"Forgiveness?" Al barked in surprise. "Sam, from what you said you don't have much to ask for forgiveness for so I assume you're talking about forgiving him."

"How do you know? Maybe I do." Sam got up and moved over to look out the window at the parking lot. "Jamie wasn't the only one who said stuff in the barn that day." He looked over his shoulder at Al. "I told you, I wasn't exactly Little Miss Sunshine that day. I was hurting and I said some stuff that I shouldn't have." He looked back to the window. "Besides, how was he supposed to know I'd let what he said bother me so much?"

"What?" Al exclaimed. He knew that Sam could lash out, and thinking about it, he did remember Sam telling him he'd also said some rather unkind things that day. It didn't happen often, that Sam did lash out which is why he forgot. It's also probably why when it did happen, it was unusually effective. Probably because it was such a rare event. "Remind me again what you said, Sam?"

"It's not important." Sam turned so that he was half sitting on the window ledge and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm just saying that maybe, instead of holding on to something more than twenty years old, it's time to just forgive and move on. I need to forgive Jamie for what he did and said. I need to make peace with it. Isn't that what you've been telling me? Make peace with stuff because I can't change it. I can't undo what happened that day in the barn and I can't...I can't bring Tom back." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I told you I didn't want to go back to Idaho and testify if it meant a death sentence for Ted - that I didn't want him to suffer anymore. How I can I tell you that if I'm willing to let suffering keep going for such a long time? Doesn't that make me some kind of hypocrite?"

Al saw the hurt in Sam's eyes. "There's a difference, Sam. You weren't responsible for the deaths of innocent people."

"I didn't say I was." Sam pushed off from the window ledge and paced a coupe of times in the area between the bed and window trying to find the way to make Al see his side of things. He finally stopped and turned to face his friend. "Al, I want you to answer a question for me honestly and truly. I don't want you to spare my feelings. Just tell me what you honestly think. Can you do that?"

Hearing the tone in Sam's voice, the one that told him this was crunch time, Al nodded. "I can and will."

Once he received Al's assurance, Sam pressed on with his question without any preamble. "Do you think that because I want to forgive Jamie and that I don't want Ted to suffer any more that I'm a weak person or some kind of coward?" Once he'd asked the question, he braced himself for the answer. He wanted honesty; he just hoped he could handle an honest answer.

Al hadn't expected that question but answered without pause. "No, Sam. I don't think you're weak or a coward. I've only known you for a little over five years but one thing that I know for sure...you're willing to stand up when you believe there's a moral ethic at stake. We may disagree sometimes on which side we're on, but I can honestly say I respect you for your integrity."

Sam let out the breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding. "Then you know I'm not making these choices because it's the easy way out. I let what Jamie said haunt me for 20 years. You saw the effect they had on me. I can't do that for another 20 years and I can't spend that much time feeling like I've caused someone any more suffering than necessary. Can you understand that? I'm making these choices just as much for me as I am for Jamie or for Ted."

Al considered Sam's words. "I can see that with Jamie, Sam. I guess I just feel there should be justice for the families that Harry and Ted killed."

"Ted didn't kill anyone," Sam pointed out. "His brother...Harry," he forced himself to say the name that was still so hard for him, stumbling over it. "Harry was the one who killed them. In some ways, Ted was just as much a victim. He loved his brother and it was hard for him to say 'no' to him. I know what that's like - to love and admire someone so much that you want to be just like them or do whatever you have to make them proud of you. I was lucky. Tom always respected me as an individual and never used that against me. Ted wasn't so lucky. Should he be punished for that? I agree, he does need to be punished for the crimes that he committed but I don't think family is a crime."

In all of Al's thoughts about what had happened, that particular concept had never crossed his mind. Hearing Sam provide a logical rationale for his version of justice was compelling. "You're saying that Ted did what he did because Harry manipulated him?"

Sam again resumed his seat by the bed. "That's what I've been trying to say all along." He looked just a little sheepish. "I guess I've never said it very well until today."

"Or maybe I just wasn't willing to hear it clearly," Al admitted. "Ok. Assuming you're right and Ted doesn't deserve the death penalty..." Al paused as he was thinking. "You know, he could get it anyways. I don't think there's a lot of mitigating evidence."

"Yes, there is. Me," Sam said simply. "It was Mom's suggestion. That I do go to Idaho but instead of making some statement so they throw the book at him, make a statement asking for mercy. I know it might not accomplish anything but at least I'll have tried."

Al again was struck that Sam had reached a reasonable solution. He knew at that moment that Thelma had made a wise move. "If both of us ask, maybe it will."

Sam's head came up so quickly at Al's words, he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Both of us?" he repeated wanting Al to clarify what he'd said. He'd been expecting his friend to shoot down his idea again. "You mean you'd support me in this?"

"Well, I can see your point. Harry was a nutjob, that's for certain. Ted wasn't cut from the same cloth but I guess he was too weak to stand up to his brother. It may have been easier just to follow him. I guess if I accept that, then asking the judge not to impose the death sentence is reasonable."

It didn't seem real to Sam that this time Al was agreeing with him. After how volatile their argument had been about this same thing just a few nights ago, the fact that Al was now willing to support him left him just a little dazed. "I'm not sure what to say. Thank you for seeing my point."

"You don't need to say anything, Sam. I guess it just took me awhile to accept that in this case, justice isn't a black and white concept."

"And Jamie, what about him? Do you also accept that it's time for me to forgive and let go of that?"

"I think that's something you have to answer for yourself, Sam. I don't think my acceptance matters. Although I think it should be a two way street."

"It does matter to me. You know your opinion of me always matters."

"Then I think your choice to not let him hurt you anymore is a good idea."

"Good. Now, before you threw him out, did you let him at least tell you how you were doing?"

Al was now the one that look sheepish. "Um. No."

"Great. So now we're going to have to see if they can get him to come back. I guess it's just as much my fault as yours since I should have given you some kind of warning."

There was a short knock on the door before it opened. "Is it safe to come in this time?" Jamie Walters asked sticking his head in the door. "I'd just like to..." His voice trailed off when he saw Sam sitting next to the bed. His demeanor changed suddenly as if he wasn't sure how to proceed. "Um...Hi Sam."

"Hi, Jamie," Sam responded as he waved the doctor in. "I don't think he's going to attack."

"That's good." Jamie's face morphed to a rueful grin. "All I can say is I feel sorry for any of the Navy officers that ever ticked him off."

"Yeah. Do you need me to leave to examine him or anything?" As much as Sam wanted to move to a point where he could come to some kind of reconciliation with Jamie, he knew it was more important that Al be taken care of first.

"No, that's not really necessary. I had actually come by earlier just to talk with Al, although he didn't seem up to that." Jamie tried a small smile.

"So what did you want to tell me?" Al demanded. Sam might have been ready to forgive Jamie Walters and Al was willing to accept that but it didn't mean he had to be at that point.

"I actually have some good news for you. The biopsy came back and everything looks good." He met Al's eyes and clearly said, "you don't have cancer."

Sam breathed an audible sigh of relief when he heard the news. It was the one thing that was still keeping him on edge. "Oh thank, God."

Al had pushed back the worry he'd felt about the possibility of cancer. Now, hearing that it wasn't a worry at all, everything flooded in at once. "Tha..." he croaked and then coughed. He started again stronger. "That's great." Inwardly he was greatly relieved.

Sam grabbed Al's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. "Thanks," he said sincerely looking over to Jamie.

"Yeah. I thought you'd want to hear the news." He paused and looked at Al. "I also wanted to talk to you about your treatment. I've corrected the damage for now but that's not to say the ulcer won't come back. There's a theory in the literature that has some pretty compelling arguments that bacteria may be its root cause. I'd like to start you on a standard regimen of antibiotics."

Al looked skeptical. "Ulcers caused by bacteria? That's crazy. Everyone knows that ulcers are caused by stress."

"Not so fast. I was reading something about this recently." Sam looked thoughtful as he recalled what he'd read. "H. Pylori, isn't it?"

Jamie nodded to Sam. "Yeah. That's what the reports say. There's still some doubt in the field." He turned to Al and finished, "Most doctors in this field still believe that standard diagnosis but it's not necessarily right. While stress may make ulcers worse, it may not be their underlying cause. That's why I'm suggesting the antibiotics."

Al was listening to the two doctors talk. This didn't sound right to him but the fact that Sam seemed to think the idea had some legs gave him pause. He looked to his friend. "What do you think, Sam? The Tums or Maalox have always worked in the past so I'm still betting on the stress."

"I think there might be something to this. It might be worth giving it a try."

Al considered what Sam said and then looked at Jamie. "If Sam says to give it a try, that's good enough for me. Go ahead and give me the antibiotics."

"Right." Jamie realized there wasn't anything more that he needed to say medically. "Well, that's all. I'll add that to your chart and keep checking your progress. Have a good day." He started to turn but then stopped and turned back. "I never liked the way things were left a year ago. I just want you both to know that it's bothered me. I became a doctor to help people and knowing that the words I said in the heat of an argument could have a long term effect like that..." He paused, "Well, I just want you both to know it wasn't intentional. That's all."

"Jamie, wait," Sam called after the doctor as he started to leave. "You weren't the only one who said hurtful words that day," he continued when Jamie had turned back. "I'm sorry for what I said and I'm sorry for holding a grudge for so long. I can't say it doesn't still hurt but, I want it to stop hurting so it's time to put it behind me...for good."

Jamie turned back. "You said what you did because you lost Tom. You were only 17 and needed someone to blame. I should have known better." He looked away. "There was nothing you could do to stop the war. It was more complicated than any of us knew."

"We were both wrong and we were both hurting." Sam snuck a quick glance over at Al wondering what he'd see on his face. Al's expression gave nothing away. "I want you to know I forgive you for anything you said and I'm hoping you can do the same."

Al sat back and watched the two men. Over the years since being repatriated, he'd met many who had been peace advocates. Although he'd believed he was doing the right thing both times he enlisted, he also knew that ultimately, it would have been better to end the war sooner. He heard Sam's apology and turned to Jamie to hear what he had to say.

"Yeah. It hurt that we'd never see your brother again," the doctor agreed. "I accept your apology, Sam, and you have mine as well." He moved towards Sam and put his hand out to seal the peace. "And if it means anything to you coming from me, I know Tom would be proud of how his little brother grew up."

Sam accepted Jamie's outstretched hand. "Thanks." His voice choked up making it hard to speak. "That means a lot to me."

Jamie put his hand on Sam's shoulder and nodded. "You know? This past year, I wondered if I'd ever get the chance to talk with you again. While I would have liked a different circumstance this time, I'm glad that it gave us the opportunity."

"I guess it's like Mom says. Every cloud has a silver lining." Sam glanced over to Al. "Sorry it had to be your cloud, Al."

Al thought about the chain of events that had led to this point. "Well, at least something good's come out of it."

Jamie nodded. "That's a good way to look at it, Admiral." He took Sam's shoulder once more in a friendly way. "Well, I've got to finish my rounds." He then addressed Al again. "I'll look in on you later. We might even be able to spring you a little earlier based on how well you're doing." He then turned and left the room.

Sam blew out a long breath after Jamie left and sat back on the chair by the bed. "It feels good to say that. I wish I'd said it a lot sooner than this."

"Better late than never, Sam." Al didn't say anymore but instead looked to be deep in thought.

"What?" Sam asked when he saw the thoughtful look on Al's face. "What's going through your head?"

"I was just thinking. The two of us had a disagreement that in a weird way ended with you addressing a disagreement from 20 years ago and that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't decided at the last minute that I couldn't leave Hawaii while things weren't ok between us. I guess it's just strange how things work out."

"Yeah, it is." This time it was Sam's turn to become thoughtful. "Al, are we ok now?" he asked slowly after a moment.

"I think so. I know we've been through some rough patches but I'm not planning on going anywhere. What do you think?"

"It's all I wanted. I came here to Hawaii because I didn't know what else to do. I really did think I'd lost you as a friend." Sam leaned forward in the chair and rested his hands on the railing. "I just wish it wouldn't take something like this for us to realize how important the friendship is."

Al was surprised. "You thought you'd lost me as a friend? Why would you think that, Sam?"

"I just..." Sam started only to stop and try to regroup his thoughts. "I just thought that this time it had gone too far." He looked down ashamed now that he'd thought the friendship could so easily be lost. "I should have had more faith. I'm sorry."

Al reached over to grasp Sam's forearm making sure he had the younger man's undivided attention. "You don't have to apologize, Sam. You never apologize for how you feel. We just need to remember that we're not always going to see things the same way. Both of us have our quirks and things about us...some big and some small. Like..." He paused, wondering if he should bring up what he was about to, but decided maybe it was time. "I know that what happened last May - you saw a big issue in what I did. I was worried you weren't going to want me around anymore."

"No, Al. No," Sam quickly denied. "That wasn't it. I just...I hated that you had to do that because of me. I felt responsible and...well...," Sam broke eye contact with Al looking down. "Sometimes I wasn't sure you wanted to be around me."

This time Al reached to lift Sam's face so he could see him. This was the last hurdle they really had to get over. "I'll admit, it wasn't something I wanted to do, Sam. Taking a life isn't something that appeals to me but I would have done the same thing under the same circumstances for any innocent, not just you. It wasn't your fault that you walked in on the robbery. It just happened and the rest just flowed from that." He considered Sam's last statement. "Is that why you get so upset when I walk away? You think I'm walking away from you?"

"I guess," Sam agreed as he half-shrugged. "I think I've told you I never really had a lot of friends when I was growing up. Being two years younger than everyone else and the smartest kid in class doesn't get you a lot of friends or, if it does, it's 'cause they want something. I guess sometimes I'm just afraid that I'm going to mess up the best friendship I ever had. I guess I sort of understand why you want some space but it feels like you're walking away from me because you just don't want to be around me anymore. I guess I get angry so you don't know how much it really hurts."

"That's never what it's about, Sam. I've just learned that when I'm hotheaded, I'm likely to say something that I'll regret later. That's why I walk away, so I won't say something that will hurt. You have to know I'd never just be your friend because of what it could 'get me.' I'm your friend because..." He tried to put what he was feeling into words, but couldn't think of how to phrase it. He finished simply, "...because I really like the person that you are."

"I really like you, too, Al," Sam said softly. He picked his head up from where he'd been looking down the floor. "We're both a couple of lunkheads, aren't we? We're both so worried about messing things up that we keep doing what just might do that but we don't do the most obvious thing...say how we're actually feeling and explain it."

"Yeah," Al agreed. "We let so many opportunities to do that go by and then we're wrapped around the worry, we miss the other things that we could be doing instead."

"Carpe diem," Sam said simply.

"Seize the day," Al agreed. He took a breath. "You know, we're still going to argue sometimes and I doubt either of us old dogs are going to learn new tricks very well. Maybe, though, knowing what the other means by their quirks will help us worry less and do just that."

"Yeah, I think it will help." Sam got up from the chair and put the safety rail on the side of the bed down and sat gently. "I want you to know something, and I mean this sincerely. Starting right now, I promise I will never again automatically think you're trying to push me away. I'll ask you first even if it means I have to hit you over the head with a frying pan to get you to answer me before you go find your space. Just promise me you won't make me use that frying pan 'cause I'm pretty sure I can hit with it a lot better than I can cook with it."

"Yeah. I don't doubt that." Al said smiling. "Ok then, Sam. I'll try to work on that as well. Just know one thing. I can't see it happening until hell freezes over, but if I'm ever ready to call it quits, I wouldn't just walk away and not say anything. So, unless that happens, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Deal," Sam said as he put out his hand to shake on it.

Al took Sam's hand. It felt good to know that things were returning to calm waters after the storms of that year. While he knew there'd be gales to weather in the future, knowing that their friendship was watertight was a comforting thought. He pulled Sam forward and into a quick hug, patting him on the back. "Just remember," he said when he'd released his friend, "you're the one who said you it better with the frying pan than you can cook with it."

Sam was taken aback by the comment and sat in silence for a second or two before laughter started to bubble out of him. Al joined in on the laugher.

Al made sure that Sam went home early that night. Even if they had smoothed things over, he knew his friend was still tired and needed to catch up on some rest. Both men also acknowledged, although neither said it aloud, that their new found pact was to be put to the test sooner or later. It was just a matter of when.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Katie and Jim came home from their trip the next morning. Although they were surprised to see Sam, they were also happy to know he'd be spending Thanksgiving with them. When they were told about Al being in the hospital, their happiness was tempered by worry for Sam's friend.

Al ended up being released from the hospital that afternoon. He offered to stay in a hotel but no one would hear of it. The house was more crowded but they still all managed to squeeze in comfortably. Knowing that Sam would, most likely, adamantly refuse to sleep on the other end of the house away from Al, Katie had Jim bring a roll away up from the basement and set it up in the guestroom. That way, Al and Sam could both sleep in the same bedroom. That night, Sam had the first, solid, worry-free sleep that he'd had in a couple of days.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The day had begun early. Katie and Thelma had gone into full holiday action, getting things prepared for Thanksgiving the following day. With all the baby equipment that was pulled out when the family had returned home, things seemed more crowded.

Sarah was crankier than the day before and between her crying and the activities, the two extra men found themselves as wrenches in the usually smooth-running household. Although Katie was happy her brother and his friend were visiting, today it was a bit of a problem.

For the fifth time that morning, she snapped at him. "Sam! Those chips are for during the games tomorrow. Now I'm going to have to go to the store again!"

Sighing, Sam returned the bag of chips to the counter where he'd found them. "Sorry. I was just a little hungry." He eyed all the activity in the kitchen. "You sure you don't want some help?" He was hoping she wouldn't ask him to try to calm Sarah down again. He'd tried that to no avail and didn't think he'd be able to go another circuit of the house bouncing Sarah up and down trying to stop her crying while she kept squalling in his ear. He'd learned very quickly that his niece had a very healthy set of lungs.

Letting out a breath of exasperation, Katie put her hand on her hip. "No. The kitchen's too small as it is. Besides, I've seen you work and I'd have to clean the room again afterwards.

"Why don't you try walking with Sarah again," Thelma suggested trying to step into the breech and give her son something useful to do. Almost on cue, Sarah let out a wail again.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam agreed with sigh. He turned back to the living room and picked his niece up from the playpen. Holding her on his shoulder, he began to bounce up and down slightly while walking around the room. "C'mon, Sarah," he almost begged. "Please stop crying. Please." In answer, the child let out an even louder cry right in her uncle's ear making him cringe.

"Give her to me, Sam," Al offered.

"No," Sam responded stubbornly. "You know you're not supposed to lift anything. Besides, I can do this. I really can."

"But she likes it when I hold her," Al argued. Again Sarah let out a wail that could wake the dead.

"No," Sam disagreed once more. He didn't want to admit that Sarah tended to quiet down more when Al held her. It made him feel like a failure as her uncle. "Ow, ow, ow," he exclaimed when the little girl grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled as hard as she could. "Let go, Honey. Let go of Uncle Sam," he asked while trying to gently pull her hand away. "What am I doing wrong," he asked when he finally managed to get her hand away.

Before Al could answer, Thelma called out to the living room, "I just saw the postman through the window. Can one of you get the mail?"

"Uh...here," Sam said as he put his niece down next to his friend on the couch and went to the door to get the mail. "I've got it, Mom."

"You're not doing anything wrong," Al called after Sam as he went out the front door. "That's just kids."

Sam took the small stack of envelopes out of the mailbox outside the front door and brought it to the kitchen. "Where do you want it?" he asked holding it up.

Thelma nodded to the table beside the door, "There will be fine Sam." She looked over to Al who was playing with Sarah by letting her look at his Naval Academy ring. "You've got the knack, Al."

"I've found that most ladies like jewelry no matter what their age," Al quipped back.

After putting the mail down where he'd been told, Sam crouched down in front of the couch. "Ok, so what is it, Munchkin?" he asked the baby seriously. "What's he got that I don't have or do you just think Uncle Sam needs to go deaf?"

Al looked over to Sam, "You remember how you got to Carnegie Hall, right?" he said referring to the old chestnut.

"Practice?" Sam asked quizzically knowing that that was the answer Al was looking for. "What am I supposed to practice?" He no sooner got the word out of his mouth before Sarah leaned in his direction grabbing onto his nose. "Got yours, too," he said as he gently took hold of his niece's nose. That garnered the first laugh he'd gotten out of her all day.

"See...that's what I'm talking about," Al said. Sarah reached out with her other hand, grabbing Sam's hair again letting out a happy gleeful sound.

"Ow. Ow." In the position Sam was in, he couldn't get the child's hand free. "A little help here, Al, would ya before I end up bald."

"Sam, what are you doing to her?" Katie called from the kitchen.

"Me?" Sam smoothly rose to his feet before Sarah could reestablish her grip. "Your daughter's trying to pull all my hair out. Am I supposed to let her?"

As Katie appeared in the doorway between the two rooms, Sarah let you a particularly loud wailing causing everyone to cringe. "If it keeps her quiet, yes," Katie suggested before going back to the kitchen.

"She's kidding, right?" Sam asked looking back to Al. He picked up the crying baby again, cuddling her to his chest.

At that moment, the front door opened and Jim walked in. "Sarah sounds a little cranky today," he commented.

"Ya think?" Katie turned back and went to her husband, giving him a kiss. "How was your morning?"

Jim gave her a kiss back. "Good. They kept the briefing short so we could get home with our families." He handed the bag he was carrying to Katie. "Got the cranberry sauce you wanted."

Hearing her father's voice, Sarah picked her head up and turning in his direction. Putting her hands up, she called for Dada.

Jim moved over to Sam taking his daughter from him. "What's wrong with Daddy's girl today?"

Happier to find herself in her father's arms than her uncle's, Sarah's cries tapered off to whimpers.

"Well, I think we know where we stand, Sam," Al said with mock hurt.

Sam tried to hide the sigh of relief when Jim took Sarah from him and sank down on the couch next to Al. "Right now, that's ok with me," he said just loud enough for Al to hear. He only stayed on the couch for a few second then bounced back up going into the kitchen. "Is there anything here I can eat that won't get my hand slapped?"

"Here!" Katie said, handing him a box of Cheerios. You can have a bowl of cereal."

"I don't want cereal. I had that for breakfast. I want something good."

"Well, you're going to have to wait for lunch then."

"But..." Sam didn't get out much more before his mother cut him off. "Samuel," I suggest you take yourself out of this kitchen unless you want to polish the silver," she warned.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said contritely and quickly went back to the living room.

"He's my brother and I love him, Mom, but he's driving me crazy right now," Katie said after her brother had left the kitchen. "It's like having a big, overgrown kid underfoot."

Al had heard the conversation. "You know, Sam. Maybe it would be a good thing to skedaddle for awhile. You're going against prime nesting behavior."

"Skedaddle? You do remember you just got out of the hospital yesterday. I don't think it's such a great idea for you to go traipsing all over the place."

"We don't have to do anything really strenuous. This is Hawaii you know. We could go out on the beach and check out those teeny weenie bikinis and stuff.

"That might be sport for you but I don't find it very entertaining." Sam leaned forward and grabbed a magazine off the coffee table. "I wouldn't mind seeing this." He tilted the magazine so Al could see the cover of it.

"An observatory? Sam! You're in Hawaii and you want to go up a mountain to see telescopes?"

"Yeah? What's wrong with that?" Sam couldn't understand why it would seem so odd. "It's not just any observatory. Too bad they don't offer tours to the public of it, though."

Seeing that Sam really did want to see the place, Al let out a sigh. "Well, I don't know about public tours but I might be able to wrangle us a private one.

Sam eyed Al speculatively. "Yeah, right. You're just pulling my leg now, aren't you?"

"Hey...remember I worked for NASA. I've got a few friends still in the 'space world.' There just happens to be a Dr. Laura Pelletier that works there on staff. I think she might just want to see me and I'm sure she wouldn't mind you being there as well."

"She'd like to see you or you'd like to see her?" Sam questioned good-naturedly.

"As far as that goes, we'd like to see each other."

"Am I supposed to be the chaperone or the third wheel?" Sam quipped back quickly.

"It's not like that, Sam. Laura was an intern at NASA when I was there. I sort of mentored her. Helped her learn the ropes. You might not believe this, but I'm not interested in that way in every female on the Earth."

Sam made a show of clutching his chest and falling back against the cushions with a strangling sound. "Give a guy some warning before you shock him like that," he said laughing. "You might give me a heart attack." He sat up again, the laughter slowly dying away. "You think you could really arrange something for today. Isn't it kinda short notice?"

"Well, it might not work but I'm betting it will." He pushed up and went over to the phone. He made the phone call and a few minutes later, turned back to Sam. "We're set for 3:00."

"Really? That's awesome." Sam's excitement was tempered for just a moment. "I better make sure it's ok with Mom and Katie if we go. Hang on a second." He went into the kitchen not going further than the door. "Mom? Do you mind if Al and I go out for a while. He's got a friend at the Mauna Kea observatory who's gonna give us a private tour."

Thelma smiled. "Sam. I hope you don't mind me saying this but that would be absolutely perfect. You'll get to do something you want..."

Before she could finish, Katie piped in..."And you won't be driving me crazy. Sorry, Sam. I love you but right now I'm so frazzled that getting a little back to normal would be nice."

"I think I can get over the hurt. Al said we have to be there by 3:00 so I guess we're going to have to get going sooner than later. He's making the arrangements to get there now."

"You know, Sam, there's not much up there. Just a bunch of telescopes."

"I know. That's what I want to see." He looked at his sister quizzically. "Why'd think we were going there?"

Katie shook her head. "Most people want to see the volcanoes, beaches, and rainforests. You want to go on the top of a mountain and look at telescopes. You know, you're a real nerd, Sam."

"Katie!" Thelma called out sharply. "Your brother just enjoys science. You may not enjoy it the same way, but he does."

"It's ok, Mom." Sam shrugged off the name. "I've been called a whole lot worse and usually by people who aren't half so pretty," he added with a wink. "Hey, you got something on your nose," he told his sister. His eyes were twinkling with merriment.

"I do? What?" Katie asked, putting her hand up to her nose, to brush whatever it was away.

"Nope, it's still there. I'll get it for you." Sam reached with his right hand to brush of his sister's nose. Instead of removing something, he left a big, white smudge from the flour he'd rested his hand in. He couldn't help but laugh when he stepped back. "Gotcha."

"'Mom!"

"Sam!" Thelma chastised. "Honestly, what is it with you and flour? Don't think I've forgotten that mess you and Al made at Christmas a couple of years ago." She shooed him back and out of the kitchen. "Go and have fun with Al and get out from underfoot or you will be polishing silver."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam laughingly agreed.

Al and Jim had been talking when Sam was chased out. Jim grinned. "What did you do this time, Sam?" He'd seen the two siblings interact and knew that a good part of their relationship including gentle teasing back and forth.

"Who me? I didn't do anything? We all set to go, Al?' Sam gave a quick look back over his shoulder fully expecting his sister to be behind him looking to extract a little revenge. "The sooner we get going, the sooner we'll get there."

Jim laughed. "That bad huh. I'd check your bed when you get home tonight. Katie will probably short sheet you."

I've got everything set. I've contracted with a helicopter service to take us there and back. Jim tells me Island Hoppers is well known. I've also got a Cherokee with four-wheel drive rented on the Big Island so we'll be able to get up the road. Laura said we'd need one."

Jim gave both Al and Sam a critical look. "You both need to take coats. It gets cold up there."

"What, does it get down in the 60's?" Sam asked with a laugh. "Don't worry, I've got a coat." He headed back to the danger zone of the kitchen. "Mom, we're gonna get going now. We might be late coming back so don't hold dinner for us. We'll grab something to eat while we're out.

Thelma went over to Sam and gave him a kiss. "I'm glad to see you and Al together like this again."

"Yeah, me too, Mom. Hey, Katie, mind if I borrow your car."

"Sure, Sam. Extra keys are in the desk drawer like always."

"Thanks." Sam hugged his mother then grabbed the keys out of the desk. "You ready, Al?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Kid. Let's get going."

The two men went out to car, throwing their coats and other cold-weather clothing in the back seat. Following the directions Al had gotten over the phone, they drove to Island Hoppers and their ride to the Big Island.

When they pulled up where they'd been told to go, they noticed a tall, well-built black man talking with a mustachioed man near an orange and yellow helicopter. As they parked the car, the mustachioed man got into a red Ferrari and drove away.

Al watched the sports car for a moment whistling lowly. "Now that's a nice car."

"How many more you gonna get?" Sam asked as he pulled the coats out of the back seat.

"I'm just saying, is all."

"Yeah, I know what your 'just saying' is like sometimes. Face it, Al, you don't have room to get another car and if you did, one of your ex-wives would probably just want more alimony."

"Ain't that the truth," Al agreed as they walked toward the helicopter.

As they neared the helicopter, the black man approached them and held out his hand. "You must be my passengers. My names Theodore Calvin but my friends call me TC."

"Nice to meet you TC," Al said taking the man's outstretched hand. "I'm Al Calavicci and this is my friend, Sam Beckett."

Sam also shook TC's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"If you guys want to get in, I'm just about done with my pre-flight and we can get going."

Nodding, Al and Sam climbed into the helicopter. As they did, Sam noticed what looked like a bullet hole near the door and pointed it out to Al. Al rubbed his hand over the mark and turned to TC. "You mind if I ask why there's a bullet hole in your helicopter?"

Hearing the question, TC moved over to look at the hole in question and let out a sigh. "You'd have to ask Thomas about that," was his cryptic reply.

Again, Sam and Al exchanged looks with each other. Silently, they agreed that they weren't going to ask who Thomas was or probe anymore into the reason behind the bullet hole. The way their luck sometimes went when they tried to go on an excursion, it was likely they'd get pulled into whatever this Thomas was up to. As long as they got to the Big Island and back without any problems that was all they really cared about.

"Hey Sam. Which side do you want?"

Sam eyed the aircraft warily. "I don't think it really matters."

"Ok," answered Al, climbing in. "How long have you been flying TC?

"I flew in 'Nam," TC answered as he settled in his pilot's seat.

"Really? So did I. Not one of these, though."

"Air Force?" the pilot asked. He'd started to rotor on the helicopter and now pulled up on the stick so that it left the ground.

"No. Navy." Al held up his ring. "Went to Annapolis."

"Really? So did Thomas… Thomas Magnum. We were in 'Nam together."

Sam piped in, "Wonder if my brother, Tom, knew him. He graduated from Annapolis too." As the helicopter gained altitude, the physicist took a quick look out then slammed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

TC glanced back briefly at Sam. "He's not gonna get sick or anything is he?" he quickly asked Al.

Al let out a breath. "I hope not. Sam's not the best in aircraft of any type."

"Great, now he tells me," the pilot muttered under his breath. "First a bullet hole and now this one's gonna toss his cookies."

"I'm not going to get sick," Sam said forcefully having overheard the comment. "I'm not," he repeated although not quite as confident.

"Ok, but there should be some plastic bags in the pouch on the wall if you do." TC told him before providing answer to his query. "Could be. Magnum was a SEAL. How 'bout your brother, Sam? What was his MOS?"

Sam looked at Al bewildered mouthing "MOS" not understanding what it meant.

"He wants to know what Tom did in the Navy."

"Oh. He was a SEAL."

"Then it's definitely possible they knew each other. Especially if he was in 'Nam. What's he doing now? Still in the Navy?"

"He never came home," Sam answered sadly.

TC's face fell. "I'm sorry. We lost too many good men over there."

"Ain't that the truth, "Al agreed somberly.

Sam closed his eyes again. This time it was in the continuing sadness of his brother's death and he wondered when or if he'd ever be able to think of that without it feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut. "How long before we land?" he asked to steer the conversation in another direction.

"About 30 minutes give or take a few," TC answered. "What was your brother's name, Sam. Next time I'm in DC, I'd like to recognize him when I visit the wall." The way he said it, it was obvious he meant he'd be honoring him along with the friends he'd lost.

"Tom," Sam answered sadly. "Thomas Beckett." He lightly touched his chest where his brother's dog tags rested.

"Ok." TC answered softly, catching the movement of Sam's hand and figuring what he might be touching. Louder, he started to explain the sites that could be seen from the helicopter, knowing from the man's body language the depths of his feeling.

Al put his hand on Sam's shoulder, quietly offering strength. As the pilot started to give his aerial tour he looked outward at the islands and water below.

Sam snuck a brief glance out at the sites being described and instantly regretted it. "I think I'm gonna be airsick," he softly informed Al.

Al pulled the plastic bag from the pouch. "These are the bags you we talking about, right?" He asked TC.

"Right." TC answered. He wasn't happy about it but it was better than the alternative. He asked Al, "So if he's this bad in a 'copter, why'd you hire me?"

"I don't think I like flying like this any better than planes," Sam informed Al as he took the bag from him.

"It was the fastest way to the Big Island." He looked at TC. "You still willing to pick us up later?"

"Yeah. I'm not gonna leave you stranded. I'll just make sure I stock up on plastic bags."

"Thanks," Al answered, giving Sam's back a light rub.

Sam struggled not to have to make use of the bag and began breathing slowly and evenly concentrating on the feel of his friend's hand on his back.

"So what's the hurry to go there?" TC queried.

"We're going to the observatory on Mount Kea," Al answered.

"It's a good thing that storm's going south of the islands then," TC responded nodding to clouds on the horizon.

Al looked out where TC indicated. "Yeah."

"Maybe we can just swim home," Sam suggested.

"Hang in there, Sam," TC said with a slight chuckle. "We'll have you on the ground soon."

"Yeah, Kid, you'll see. It's gonna be a breeze."

"No. No breezes," Sam said emphatically. "Then there's wind and things move and that would not be good. No breezes." He clutched the still unused plastic bag hoping it would stay that way for the rest of the trip. "Maybe I can get some Dramamine when we come back."

Within a few minutes, TC landed the helicopter at the helipad that Al had contracted. TC, happy to see that Sam hadn't needed the bag after all pointed to the small building where they'd need to check in. Their rental Cherokee was there sitting out front, just as the reservation agent had said it would be. Al smiled. It was the same model and color as the as the one Sam had bought to replace the Jeep he'd totaled about a month earlier. "Hey, Kid, looks just like yours."

"Four wheels on land. That's my way to travel."

TC smiled at Sam's glee at being back on Terra Firma. "That should do it. Just be careful on that road. It's pretty rugged." He turned to Al. "You want me back at 9 pm, right?"

"Yeah. Laura said we should be back here by then."

"I'll be waiting for you."

"Thanks," Al told TC shaking the man's hand. "Come on, Sam, we better get a move on." He started to walk over to the building to pick up the keys..

Sam also thanked the pilot and followed his friend. They moved away from the helicopter which took off after they were out of the way. "Hold it, Al. You are not driving so don't even think about it."

"What?" Al asked. "Why not?"

"Why not?! You just had surgery or did you forget. You're not driving. I am."

"But…"

"No buts." Sam moved around Al and ended any further discussion by getting to the counter first. He pulled out his license and credit card. "I'll be driving."

The young lady behind the counter looked at both of them and at Al's nod, finished the transaction. Handing Sam the keys, he walked out to the Jeep to get in on the driver's side. He looked at his friend expectantly. "You coming?"

"Yeah. I'm coming." Al walked around the vehicle and got in on the passenger side. He pulled out the directions he'd written down and read out where they needed to go. An hour later, they were approaching the Visitor center which Al's directions showed as VIS.

"I guess we should stop here," Sam said as they approached the turnoff for the VIS.

"Sure," Al agreed. "But we need to keep it short. Those clouds are coming in fast and we should probably get to the top sooner rather than later."

"It's recommended to spend about a half hour here to get acclimated because of the elevation. Wasn't one round of altitude sickness enough for you?"

"That was a special case, Sam. Besides, it's not like we come from sea level. We live at 4,600 feet so I figure for the short time we'll be up here, we'll be fine."

I don't think..." Sam began but then stopped. It was true that they didn't have a lot of time and the clouds were closing in. There were already some sprinkles of rain so they'd be better off not taking longer than necessary. He put the jeep back in gear and pulled back out onto the road. "I hope we're doing the right thing," was all he said as he continued up the road. It wasn't far past the VIS where the road became a lot harder to drive on and the sprinkles changed over to snow flurries."

Al had assured Sam that everything would be fine and that he was just borrowing worry when his friend had voiced his concern. Now, seeing the snow flurries, he commented, "I guess that storm TC was talking about moved north."

"What is it with us and snow, huh?" Sam asked as he briefly flicked his eyes in Al's direction. "It always seems to snow at the worst time."

"You better keep you eyes on the road," Al admonished when he saw Sam glance in his direction.

"I am keeping my eyes on the road. Don't be a side seat driver." This time, Sam's gaze went to Al slightly longer. When he looked at the road again, he saw some kind of white animal in the middle of it. He pulled the steering wheel to veer around the animal but the Cherokee hit a patch of ice that had accumulated on the road and he lost control. Sam fought to regain control but it was quickly apparent it was a futile attempt as the truck went over the lip of the road. He barely had time to shout a warning.

He was sure that this was the end for them but far sooner than he would have thought, the Cherokee came to a very abrupt stop. He was thrown forward, his head striking the steering wheel. After careening down the side of the ravine, it was eerily quiet in the Cherokee.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The tumble off the road had taken Al by surprise - that was for sure. He felt pain in his forearm as they had careened down the side of the mountain and looking down, he could see why. His hand was twisted in a strange angle and he knew even without medical training that the wrist had been broken, probably when he was thrown against the door. It hurt, but he had learned long ago how to work through the pain. Right now, that wasn't what concerned him. At the moment, it was the fact that Sam's head was resting against the steering wheel and he could make out a small trickle of blood. "Sam?" He asked, hoping that his friend was able to answer.

"Uuuhhh," Sam moaned as he pushed back from the steering wheel and let his head lean against the seat. He blinked his eyes slowly and looked around. "Not dead?"

Al was relieved to hear Sam speak. "No. Not dead. Not exactly in perfect condition but not dead."

Reaching up, Sam wiped at his forehead over his right eye. As he brought his hand down, he stared at the smear of red on his fingers. "Blood," he stated unnecessarily then wiped his hand on his jeans. "Al, was that a sheep in the road?" He wasn't sure if the animal had actually been there or if thinking it was simply a by-product of hitting his head.

"Sheep?" Al asked. "All I saw was something white, big, and fuzzy. I guess it could have been a sheep."

"What the hell is a sheep doing in the middle of the road half way up a mountain in the snow in Hawaii?"

"I don't know," Al answered. "I'm not a biologist." He said it with a little more sting than he meant to. His wrist was hurting like crazy and it was affecting his mood.

"Don't yell," Sam pleaded rubbing his forehead again. "I'm right here."

"Sorry, Kid," Al immediate said. He tried to ignore the pain in his wrist and forearm. 'You gave yourself a pretty good hit, huh?"

"Yeah." Sam pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly then shook his head slightly trying to clear the cobwebs. "You ok? You hurt anywhere?"

Holding up his arm while cradling his wrist so Sam could see, Al ruefully said, " This isn't normal."

Sam studied Al's arm for a moment before leaning over to gently probe at it. "It's broken," he needlessly informed his friend. Twisting around so he could lean over into the backseat, he searched out the first aid kit that the Cherokee was supposed to be equipped with and hoped that it wasn't in the cargo bay. The way the vehicle had come to rest, there was no way he'd be able to get the driver's side door open and he didn't want to make Al move just yet. He also didn't want to have to climb over the seat to look. Luckily, he located it on the floor behind the passenger seat and snagged it.

"Looks like a basic set up," he said after he'd settled back in the passenger seat and opened the first aid kit. There were bandages, and the like but nothing he could use as a splint. Remembering he'd brought the magazine from Katie's house with him, he reached around to the backseat again and found it. It would work as a makeshift splint.

Once he'd splinted Al's wrist and made sure there were no other injuries his friend hadn't mentioned as well as checking the surgical site, he angled the rearview mirror so he could see the gash above his eye. Deciding it wasn't very deep and it wasn't likely he had a concussion; he cleaned it and bandaged it. "Now what?" he asked after putting the first aid kit back in the back seat. "Now what do we do?"

"I don't know. I guess we should try to find a way back to the road," Al suggested. He wasn't saying it but he was concerned that someone would be able to find them. The snow was falling harder now and he figured there wouldn't be many people going up to check the observatory today.

Sam turned around again so he could look out the back window. It had become coated with snow and harder to see out of but there was still a good enough view up the ravine wall they'd come down. It wasn't very high but it didn't look like a walk in the park either. "I really don't think that's a good idea." He reached into the back grabbing his sweater and coat as well as the coat Al had brought. Suddenly, Al's heavier winter coat looked like a lot better idea than the lighter coat he had.

"Sam, if we're not seen, we're not going to get out of here." Al looked at the outer wear that Sam had pulled up from the back. He hadn't really noticed before. "Damn it, Sam! You need more than that!"

"Yeah, well, this is all I have so there's not much else I can do." Sam again eyed the view out the back window. "Let's give it a little while. I really don't think traipsing off is a great idea. You know they say to stay put if you get lost."

"But Sam, we have light now. If we wait, we may not have that."

"But you can't get up there with your arm and I don't think I..." Sam was going to point out that he didn't have the light brace for his knee he usually used but didn't want to call Al's attention to that. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

Al considered Sam's words. "You've got a point, Sam. But only one of us needs to get up there. You should be able to."

Sam looked out the window again. The snow was still coming down hard and the light was getting a little bit dimmer. "I'm still not sure but...ok." He pulled on the sweater and then the coat over it wishing he'd had the forethought to ask if Jim had anything warmer he could have borrowed or at least a pair of gloves. "I can't get out this side. I'll have to get out your side."

The two men got out of the vehicle and Sam moved to the rear of it. He uneasily looked back to where Al stood just outside of the passenger door. "I still think I should…"

"Sam, go!" Al said in his most authoritative voice cutting his friend off. "No more thinking. Just go and get us help."

Reacting to the authority in the sound of his friend's voice, Sam gave a short nod and turned to make his trek up the ravine wall. It wasn't very high and the grade, in ordinary circumstances, would be easy to climb. With the snow and ice as well as the mud left from the rain that had initially fallen, he knew that it wouldn't be as easy as he'd like.

He set out, being careful where he placed his feet and looking for handholds. He was about 1/3 way up when he set his left foot down on an ice-coated rock. As soon as he did, he knew it was the wrong place but he wasn't balanced very well and wasn't able to move to more stable footing very fast. Just when he thought he'd be able to, he felt his foot slide on the rock, the rock turned under his foot, and he felt his knee buckle. As it buckled, he felt the same sensation of something popping accompanied by the extreme pain that he'd felt when he'd originally injured the knee a couple of months before. With his left leg now useless, he had no way to keep his balance and started to tumble head over heels back down.

As he fell, he flashed on the flight he'd taken down the ice field several years ago after the plane he and Al had been flying in crashed in the Rocky Mountains. His terror-filled shout was cut off when came to an abrupt stop against the rear wheel of the Cherokee.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Al had stood at the rear of the Cherokee watching as Sam made the climb. If luck was on their side, and sometimes Lady Luck did pay them a visit, he'd spot a vehicle going up or down the road as soon as he got to the top. He figured that with the weather that might not be a given...but...maybe this time...

As soon as he saw Sam put his foot down on the rock he knew something was wrong. The kid's leg seemed to buckle underneath him and before he could even yell out to find out what was wrong, Sam came tumbling back down the slope. For just one horrifying moment, he remembered watching as Sam fell down the ice field. "No!" he yelled, although he knew inside it would do no good.

He watched as Sam came tumbling back down, coming to a stop against the rear wheel of the Cherokee. He dropped to his knees next to his friend and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Sam? How bad are you hurt, Buddy?" he gasped out. He raked his eyes over his friend's body trying to pinpoint where the damage could be besides the knee. He noticed the bandage had been pulled off of Sam's head and small trickle of blood was seeping out of the wound again.. His face was also liberally spotted with scratches.

"Knee, my knee," Sam gasped out painfully. The abrupt stop against the tire had knocked the wind out of him and he was struggling to get his lungs working again.

"Damn it," Al grumbled. Sam was holding onto his left knee, the same one he'd injured before. It was likely he'd aggravated that injury. He glanced up at the top of the slope. Neither one of them would be getting up there now. There was no choice but to wait for a Search and Rescue team to find them. Right now, they had to take whatever precautions they could to ensure their survival until someone came for them. High on that list was keeping as warm as possible. Considering Sam hadn't been dressed appropriately for the weather, and now his clothing was damp and muddy from his fall, getting out of the wind and continuing snow was their first priority. "We need to get back in the jeep, Sam, where it's warmer. Can you get up?"

"Yeah. Give me a second." Using the Cherokee as a brace and the little help Al was able to offer with just one arm that he could use, Sam pulled himself up until he was leaning against the Cherokee. Experimentally, he tried to put weight on his left leg but it immediately buckled almost sending him back to the ground.

"We need to get inside," Al reminded him. "We'll have to hunker down 'til they find us."

"Yeah." With minimal assistance from Al, and leaning on the Cherokee, Sam made his painful way back to the passenger door. He was going to get in the front seat but Al stopped him and steered him to the back seat instead. He slid all the way across the seat to make room for Al.

"C'mon back closer to me," Al told him once he was in and the door was closed. "We need to stay warm."

Sam understood that Al wanted to use their body heat. Before moving back closer to Al, he leaned over to see if there was anything they could use in the cargo area. He spotted a beach blanket and two bottles of water and grabbed them. He slid closer to his friend and draped the blanket over the two of them. "Who knew Hawaii could get this cold?" he asked through teeth that had started chattering.

"Yeah," Al answered as he considered the various survival scenarios he'd experienced over the years. Knowing that Sam was wet in addition to the cold didn't bode well. Already, the interior of the Cherokee was as cold as it was outside. "Hey, Kid," he asked casually, "You think the engine will start at all?" He was hoping they could at least get the heater working.

"I don't know. I didn't try." Sam leaned his head back against the seat. He was feeling tired all of a sudden. "I didn't think to try but even if it does, I don't think we can drive out of here."

"I'm not as worried about driving, Sam, as I am about warmth." Al looked away. "I guess I shouldn't have sent you up the wall." He nodded to the knee. "That's gotta hurt."

"No more than it did the last time." Sam leaned forward ready to climb into the front seat. "I can try getting it to start." He flopped back down to the seat with a groan when he turned his leg the wrong way. "Or maybe not."

Al closed his eyes against the pain he knew the kid must be in. Right now, he needed to focus on getting them out of this mess. "That's ok, Sam. We'll figure something else out," he said kindly.

"Your friend, Laura, knew we were coming, right? When we don't show up, won't she call out the cavalry?" As he felt a chill run through his body, Sam instinctively moved closer to the only source of warmth – Al – and pulled the blanket a little closer.

"Yeah. I'm sure she will, Sam." Actually, Al figured there might be a delay because of the weather. Sam didn't need to know that at this point though.

"So I guess we just wait 'til they get here then."

"Yeah," Al answered. He took a breath. "Give me the keys, Sam. I should be able to get to the driver's seat."

"I don't have them. They're still in the ignition. I didn't think I needed to take them with me."

"Ok." Holding his wrist close to his body, Al moved around to get to the driver's seat. It took him awhile but eventually he made it. Reaching out and turning the key, he tried the ignition but the engine didn't turn over. "Damn it," he said, hitting the steering wheel. "Why the hell is this happening now!"

"I'm sorry, Al. I should have been watching the road like you said." Sam leaned forward and reached over the seat to touch his friend's shoulder. "I can try climbing up there again. There should be an elastic bandage in the first aid kit I can wrap my knee with."

"No." Al answered, realizing that Sam was keying into his upset at this latest turn of events. "We'll just have to work with what we have. They'll be here soon, Kid. I'm sure of it." With all that had happened this last year, Al was worried that this could be too much for his friend.

"I still should wrap my knee. Can you bring the first aid kit back here?"

Al looked around the front seat but didn't see the the first aid kit. "Didn't you put it back there?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam agreed spying the first aid kit on the floor.

Al pulled out the keys though habit and put them in his coat pocket then moved to the back seat again.

Sam picked up the first aid kit and found an elastic bandage in it. He wrapped it around his knee hoping it would provide at least some support for the injured joint. "I guess I'm going to end up with surgery," he said despondently as Al got back in the back seat. As soon as his friend was settled, he moved closer to him.

"That's what I was afraid of, Sam." Al was upset as well about the potential consequence of this trip up the mountain.

After he was done wrapping his knee, Sam spread the blanket over them again. Some sand fell from its fold, clueing the two in that it had never been meant for warmth. Still, it was all they had. "I'm cold," he needlessly told the other man. "I wish I had a warmer coat or that I hadn't left my good sweater in the ambulance."

"We'll just snuggle together closer, then." Al moved to Sam, pulling him in closer to whatever warmth he could share. He checked his watch to keep track of the time. 3:00 came and went. It had been almost an hour since they went off the road.

It was approaching 3:30 when Al registered that Sam's occasional shiver had turned to a constant shake. He started to pull off his coat. "You need to put on something warmer, Kid."

"No. You need to keep that on. You just had surgery." Sam clenched his jaw trying to control his chattering teeth. "I'm ok." He reached down to get one of the bottles of water. "We need to stay hydrated. We're up high." As he opened the bottle of water, his shaking combined with his cold hands to make him clumsy and some of the water sloshed out of the bottle and onto the floor. "Damn it," he said softly then held the bottle out to Al. "Here, drink some of this."

Al took the bottle from Sam but continued taking off his coat. "You need this more, Sam. You're wet. That's causing you to chill quicker."

"No," Sam said in as strong a voice as he could muster. "One of us needs to stay warm. Listen to me."

"Sam," Al started but wasn't allowed to finish.

"No, don't 'Sam' me. Listen to me and keep that on so you stay warm."

"And what happens if you get hypothermia?"

"Then you'll be warm and keeping your wits about you." Sam pointed to the bottle Al still held. "Drink."

Al took a sip from the bottle then handed it back to Sam. When the younger man started to put the cap back on, he complained, "What about you? You need to keep hydrated as well."

"My share's down there," Sam stated pointing to the wet spot on the floor where the water had spilled. "I shouldn't have been clumsy."

"Saaammm...it was an accident. You need to drink too. You know that."

"But..." Sam started to disagree but stopped. He uncapped the bottle and took a small sip from it. "There, I drank some."

"But..." Al started. He realized that Sam was likely to be stubborn at this point and he figured it wouldn't be good to get into an argument about it. He'd just make sure Sam drank more often. "Ok."

"What happens if no one comes, Al?" Sam slouched down and leaned over to rest his head on his friend's shoulder. "There's no cabin like last time."

"That's not going to happen, Kid. Laura knew we were coming and TC is expecting us at 9 pm. Someone's going to give the alarm."

"Mom and Katie are gonna be really mad if we miss Thanksgiving and we won't get pumpkin pie." As he grew more and more cold, Sam's thoughts started to wander. "I like pumpkin pie. Do you like it? Mom makes really good pumpkin pie and warm cider."

"Pumpkin pie's ok. I really like sweet potato pie better but based on how good your mother's pies are, I'm sure the pumpkin will be good." Al smiled, thinking of the woman. Sam was lucky to have had Thelma growing up. He briefly considered the idea of having a mother around like that and then turned away from the thought. "Cider sounds nice too," he said, physically turning away toward the window as well.

Sam felt and saw Al turning away. His immediate thought was that his friend was angry with him. After all, he had driven off the road - the second time he'd done that in less than a year. If you counted falling asleep and hitting the guardrail a couple of months ago, it was actually the third time in less than a year. Then, when he was supposed to go find them help, he'd fallen instead and now couldn't go. "I'm sorry, Al. I didn't mean to mess up so bad. Are you mad at me?"

"Huh?" Al asked, not sure why Sam would say that. Realizing suddenly what he likely meant he shook his head. "No, Sam. I'm not mad. You were just trying to avoid the sheep. You didn't know we'd go over the side."

"I really can drive when it's snowing. I bet you don't think I can 'cause I keep driving off the road but I used to drive in the snow in Indiana and when I was in Massachusetts." Sam let out a quick chuckle. "Hope you got the insurance."

"It's covered, Sam," Al said drily. "I reserve judgment on the snow driving," he bantered back.

"It's not s'posed to snow in Hawaii. I know I saw it in the tour book. Lava, pineapples and no snow." Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My head's hurting, I'm cold, I'm tired, and I'm bored...and we're not gonna get to see the observatory, are we?"

"No." Al answered.

"Oh." Sam was surprised by the short answer but thought maybe it was because Al was as uncomfortable as he was. "Is you're wrist really hurting?"

Al realized that Sam wasn't bantering back. That gave him pause and sent up a red flag for him. "Um, a little." He looked at Sam with concern. "Head's hurting, huh?" He didn't know much but he knew Sam had hit his head.

"A little bit. It's kinda burning where the gash is and I've got a little headache. There wasn't anything in the kit for pain so I guess we have to grin and bear it."

Al bit at his lip. Concussions could cause that symptom and if it was more serious, it could get worse if untreated. He started to consider that perhaps morning could be a little late. "Yeah. Uh, grin and bear it. That makes sense."

Sam was able to easily interpret his friend's thoughts. "It's nothing bad, Al. It's not like the time with plane. I don't even think there's a concussion. It's just tender and I think some of the headache is just tension."

"You sure?" Al asked wanting to believe his friend. The last thing he wanted to think about was the idea that right when things had seemed more normal than in months, Sam could be really hurt.

"I'm sure, Al – as sure as I know my name is Joe." When he saw the look on Al's face morph form surprise to concern, Sam barked another laugh. "I'm just yanking your chain. I know my name's Sam."

Al's eyes narrowed. "Saammm, that isn't funny."

"Sorry…sorry. I wasn't trying to be mean."

"Yeah...well," Al said. He glanced at his watch. Twilight was falling. He hoped someone would be there soon. "Hey, Kid, how about some more of the water." Based on how he could feel his friend's shivers, he figured hydration and hypothermia would be their biggest concerns.

"How long's it been?" Sam asked as he leaned over to get the water. He was very careful opening it this time. After taking a single, small sip, he passed the bottle to Al.

Al pushed it back. "You need to drink more than that, Sam."

"I had enough. You drink it," Sam insisted. He wasn't about to drink more than the barest minimum. At the elevation they were at, hydration was important and since Al had had a bad experience at a higher elevation before, Sam was going to do his utmost to make sure that didn't happen again. Besides, he reasoned, he was healthier and stronger than the other man was right now. The recent surgery left Al the physically weaker of the two and it was imperative, in Sam's mind that all precautions be taken for his friend's well being.

"No. You need to keep hydrated. Drink more or I won't."

"No. Now drink the damned water," Sam said sharply as he thrust the bottle in Al's direction.

"No." Al pushed himself as close to Sam's height as he could. His eyes were locked with Sam. "You need more water. You're not taking enough and don't tell me you are."

"No, no, no." Sam again thrust the bottle in Al's direction. "You take it or…or…or I'm gonna throw it."

Seeing that Sam was as close to losing it as he'd ever seen him, Al acquiesced. "Fine." He took the bottle and took a small drink. "Now, drink some more," he said as he passed it back to Sam.

"No. I said no." Sam moved as far away from Al as he could get and pushed the blanket aside. "'M hot and you're bullying me."

Feeling the sudden chill that the movement of the blanket caused Al took a frustrated breath. "Sam put the blanket back on."

"Uh uh." He fumbled with the zipper on his coat trying to pull it down. Out the window he could see snow still falling. "How come it's hot and snowing?"

"Sammm, It's cold as hell in here. You just think you're hot. Think. You know what that means."

"That I need to take my coat off?" Sam questioned unsure. His cold, numb fingers were unable to work the zipper. "It's stuck. Fix it so it works, Al."

"No." Al was getting worried. He knew from survival training that the way Sam was acting wasn't right. "You need to listen to me, Kid. You're not really hot. You're losing body temperature."

Sam looked at Al in confusion as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. He could feel that he was hot so he couldn't be losing heat - or at least he didn't think he was. "'M tired," he mumbled. His tongue seemed thick making it hard to articulate very well.

"This isn't good," Al said needlessly to himself. He was about to say something more to Sam when he saw light to the left of him. "Hey, Kid. Look," he said trying to call Sam's attention to the change in situation.

"Don' wanna look. Gonna take a nap."

Al was about to shake Sam when the door opened. He was surprised to see Jim Bonnick framed in the doorway. "Jim? What are you doing here?"

Jim looked into the Cherokee. "I volunteer for an S&R team. When I heard the call come in about two men missing on Mauna Kea, well, I had a feeling it might be the two of you." He looked over to his brother-in-law who was still trying to get his jacket off. "What's going on Sam?" he asked wanting to ascertain his state of mind.

Sam saw Jim leaning in the Cherokee but didn't acknowledge him. "Let's go home, Al. Can we go home? I won't argue with you anymore."

"Yeah, Kid. We'll be going home soon." Al looked over to Jim and began telling him what he knew of Sam's condition. "He tried to climb up to the road earlier. Fell down the slope and got wet. He's been shivering for awhile now."

"Damn," Jim answered. He looked at Al, noticing the splint. "How are you doing?"

Following Jim's gaze, Al looked down to his wrist. "Sam said it's broken but other than that, I'm ok." He looked over to Sam again. "He's the one you should be taking care of."

"We will." Jim pulled back. "Hey Jamie, come on over."

"How are they doing?" Jamie asked as he joined Jim at the Cherokee.

Jim licked at his lip unconsciously. "I'm worried about Sam. From what Al told me, he might be suffering hypothermia. You should probably take him up and I'll take care of Al."

Jamie started to circle around the Cherokee to get to Sam but couldn't get far. "No can do. That side's blocked. We'll have to move Al then we can get Sam out." He pulled open the front door and climbed in so he could assess the two men. He leaned over the backseat checking Al first. He noticed the splinted wrist. "There anything else I should know about besides that wrist, Al?"

Knowing he was asking about his condition, Al answered, "Um. No. Everything else seems to be ok. We didn't fall that far." He then nodded to Sam. "He hit his head but says he doesn't have a concussion." Al paused. "He says he's hot, though."

Jamie eyed Sam from where he was. "Not good. He's most likely hypothermic." He backed out of the Cherokee to confer with Jim. "Let's get Al out first. It looks like Sam did a good job of splinting that wrist and he says there are no other injuries. Sam seems to have taken the worst of this. Once we get Al out and topside, we can move Sam. I'll stay here with him until we do."

"Ok," Jim said. Knowing that the men had once had some history that wasn't the best he asked, "You sure that's a good idea?

Jamie didn't pick up on Jim's meaning and looked at him oddly. It didn't take advanced medical knowledge to know that Sam was in worse shape than Al. It only made sense that he'd stay behind with him. "This isn't the time to be debating things. We need to get a move on with this and get Sam warmed up." He called out to one of the S&R team members still near the top of the ravine. "Get me some blankets down here on the double."

Jim nodded. "Ok." He went to Al. "Let's get you out of here."

"What about Sam?" Al asked."

"Dr. Walters is going to get him stabilized. He'll be right up after you."

Al looked back at Sam. "You're sure he'll be ok?"

"Yeah, Al. I'm sure. He's my brother-in-law. You have any idea what Katie or Thelma would say if I let anything happen to him? He's going to be fine."

"I see your point." Al turned to Sam. "Hey, Sam," he called gentling his voice. "I'll see you up top? Ok? Sam?" He looked at Jamie in concern when he didn't get any answer from Sam besides a puzzled stare.

"I'll take care of him, Al. You have my word," Jamie promised.

Sam was only half paying attention to the conversation going on around him. What little he was taking in seemed to make a small degree of sense. "You go with Al," he said as clearly as he could to Jamie. "Take care of him."

Hearing Sam's somewhat disconnected response, Al put his hand out. "I'm going with Jim, Sam. Dr. Walter's staying with you."

"No," Sam complained as Al's words penetrated the fog his mind was in this time. "Don't leave me, Al. Said you wouldn't anymore."

"I'm not leaving, Kid. But right now, we have to follow what we're being told so we can get out of here. I'm just going up first and then you're coming up. I'm not leaving you."

"Promise?"

"Promise. I'll see you in a minute." Al turned to Jamie. "I'm counting on you." He then went with Jim.

"I'm not going to let either of you down." As Al got out of the Cherokee, Jamie got in the back next to Sam. He accepted the blankets that had been brought down. "Let's see about getting you warmed up, Sam."

"Told you to go with Al."

Jamie continued to work at getting the blankets wrapped around Sam. "Al's being taken care of."

"But I said..." He trailed off and turned his face to the window. ""You still hate me."

"What?" Jamie asked. He continued doing his check of Sam's condition. "No. I don't hate you, Sam."

"Yes you do. You do. Said it's my fault Tom died and now you won't take care of Al."

Jamie looked at Sam. "I thought we covered this the other day. I shouldn't have said that to you then, Sam. I was wrong, and that has nothing to do with Al." He noticed Sam's dry lips and pulled out a bottle of water. Handing it to Sam, he told him, "You need to drink this."

Sam shook his head when he saw the water. "I can't have any. I spilled mine on the floor 'cause my hands don't work."

Hearing Sam describe his symptoms, Jamie knew they needed to get him treatment sooner than later. He knew it was a long shot based on the evidence of hypothermia, but he decided to try and reach the intellect that Tom had told him had been off the charts. He hadn't really believed his friend at the time, thinking it was just sibling pride. Then he and Sam had had the falling out when Tom had died. Still, he knew Sam was a medical doctor. Just maybe he could get him to see what was happening to him. "Sam. You need to listen to me right now. I know you don't want to but it's important." He took a breath. "Right now your body temperature is too low. It's called hypothermia and some of the symptoms include confusion and clumsiness. That's why your hands wouldn't work. You need to let me help you and one of the things I need you to do is drink some water."

Blinking slowly at Jamie, Sam tried his best to understand what he was being told but his brain felt slow and sluggish. "My hands don't work 'cause I'm thirsty?"

"No," Jamie corrected. "Because you're cold but you need to drink, too."

"But Al needs the water." Sam leaned forward looking around the interior of the Cherokee for his friend. He'd already forgotten Al had told him he'd see him up top. "Where is he? Where's Al?"

"He's being taken care of." The radio buzzed and Jamie pulled the bulky equipment from the holder on his hip, pushing in the button. "Jamie here." He then listened to the report that Al and Jim had reached the road and the retrieval equipment was being sent back down. "Roger. We should be ready in a few minutes. We'll need extra blankets and warm the saline." At the acknowledgement, he put the radio back on his hip. "Did you hear, Sam? Al's fine. He's up there waiting for you."

"Gonna go home now," Sam said softly. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Mom's making pie…pie for Thanksgiving."

Worried that Sam was entering the next stage of hypothermia, Jamie shook him. "Sam, stay with me." He decided to use whatever means he had to keep Sam conscious and engaging him in family thoughts was his best bet. He'd need that if he was to get him up the incline without delay and further help. "You know, Tom was always talking about your Mom's pies. I don't think he'd feel you should get any, though, if you didn't take care of yourself. Tom would want you to drink this water. If you won't do it for me, will you do it for him?"

Sam clumsily pushed Jamie away in an effort to stop the shaking. "Tol' you I can't. My hands don't work and it'll spill and make things wet. Tell Al I need a straw." Again, he tried to lean back and closed his eyes to rest only to be shaken again. "Stop it," he grumbled. "I don' like you. Al let's me sleep."

Jamie's tactics changed again. "You're going to like me a whole lot less if you don't start cooperating with me. You don't need to hold the water bottle. I'll hold it, but you do need to drink. Sleeping isn't even on the list of things you can do right now. If you won't let me help you, then this is going to take longer and you'll be more at risk. How do you think Al will feel if that happens? Huh? Come on, Sam. You don't need to talk to me ever again but let me take care of you, damn it!"

Sam shrank away from the man who'd begun to berate him. "Don' yell," he begged. "'M tryin'. Knee hurts. Wanna go home."

Softening again, Jamie said plaintively, "Then let me help you."

"'K." Sam rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Everythin's confusin'. Can't think. Can we go now?"

Jamie looked behind him and saw the equipment had been lowered. "Yeah. We can go. Right after you have a drink, ok?" He opened the water bottle and held it to Sam's lips, tilting it slowly so it would be easy for him to handle.

As the water hit his lips, Sam instinctively drank from it. After a couple of swallows, he pushed the bottle away as he started to cough slightly. "Done. No more."

"Yeah. No more," Jamie agreed. He capped the bottle. "Now let me help you over there and we'll get you pulled up the incline. There's a nice, warm ambulance ready to take you away from here and eventually home."

"Go see Al?" Sam asked hopefully. He attempted to help move across the backseat but the cold had left him uncoordinated and he was more hindrance than help. In his muddled state, he didn't recognize that and kept trying to help. "Take a nap."

"Yeah, go see Al." Jamie worked with Sam's movements as best he could, guiding his arms and legs to get him out of the vehicle. Eventually, the man was out. "Ok, now lean on me. We don't have far to go. Just over there," Jamie said nodding to the equipment a few feet away.

Sam nodded and tried to follow the directions he'd been given. He was concentrating on that so much, he forgot about his knee. When he stepped with his full weight on his left leg, the joint couldn't take it. He let out an exclamation of pain and started to fall to the ground. The fall was only prevented by Jamie quickly wrapping his arms around him and holding him up.

Jamie sighed in frustration. He'd hoped the splint would provide more support. The fact that it didn't told him the knee was also a major concern. He made a mental note to call ahead to have an orthopedic specialist at the ER when they arrived. To Sam he continued to provide the balance to continue their short journey. "I've got you and I won't let you fall. Just don't put your weight on that leg. Use me as a crutch."

Sam nodded slightly. It was taking all he had just to move the short distance Jamie wanted him to. "Can't climb," he reminded Jamie.

"You won't have to. We've got a stokes stretcher to pull you up. I'll be beside you on ropes to make sure you get up safely."

"Ok. Then I can sleep?"

"Soon, Sam. Soon," was all Jamie would commit to.

Within a few minutes, Jamie had secured Sam - whose condition was deteriorating noticeably - into the cage and had hooked himself into his gear. Radioing the top to begin the operation, he stayed with Sam on the way up, making sure the stokes didn't snag onto anything. Once at the top, he wasn't surprised to see Al, wrapped in a blanket, trying to pull away from the EMT's to get to Sam. "Let him come," Jamie told them. "It'll be better for both of them."

Al moved quickly to Sam, but stayed out of the way while they removed his friend from the Stokes to the ambulance gurney. "Hey, Kiddo." he said with a cheer that wasn't in his eyes. Worry was seated there and would remain until he knew Sam was ok.

"I wanna go home, Al," Sam said softly. "Farkel misses me."

Once the younger man had been moved, Al squatted down by him. He grasped the hand Sam moved from under the blanket. "Yeah. I'm sure he does, Kid. We'll be back in New Mexico soon. Right now, though, let the doctors help you." He looked over to Jamie. While he wasn't thrilled when he'd seen him the other day, now he just wanted the man to take care of his friend.

"Water?" Sam asked aware of how thirsty he suddenly was. "Have some?"

"Yeah. I've got lots here for you," Jamie said as he approached the two men. It was a good sign Sam was asking for water. He held the open bottle to his mouth to drink.

When Jamie held the water to his mouth, Sam tried to dodge away from it. "No, don't want that kind. Don't like it." He turned plaintive eyes to Al. "You get me water."

"What's wrong, Sam?" Al asked. He heard his friend bury the hatchet a couple of days ago. Now he felt they were back to where he was a year before. "I'm sure the water is ok."

"Nuh uh...doesn't taste good."

"What do you mean, Sam? It's just water. C'mon and drink it," Jamie said in encouragement.

Sam again pushed the bottle away. "No. Al get me water."

Jim, who'd been watching the three men made a suggestion. "Al, why don't you try giving it to him? I don't think it's the way the water tastes that he wants different."

Al looked at Jim, catching on to what he meant and nodded. "Ok." He took the water bottle from Jamie. "Here you go, Sam." He tilted the bottle as Jamie had done.

This time, Sam accepted the water offered to him. "Tastes better," he mumbled once he'd drunk his fill. "Go home now 'n get a turkey."

Al let out a sigh. The way Sam was acting, he wasn't sure he'd be home for Thanksgiving at all. He hoped he was wrong. "Yeah, Sam. Better." He turned to Jamie and Jim. "He's going to be ok, right?" The question was phrased not simply as a question but as one who needed a confirmation.

"We get him to the hospital and warmed up, he'll be fine," Jamie assured Al. He signaled two of the S&R workers to move Sam into the ambulance that was standing by. "There's a chopper waiting for us at the VIS."

"Good," Al answered simply. He turned to Sam. "You're going to be ok, Sam. You'll be home soon. I'm sure of it."

Sam studied Al's face for a moment. "Promise?" As confused as he was he knew that if Al made a promise, he meant it.

"Yeah. Promise," Al said, softly.

"'K," Sam agreed easily.

As soon as Al stood up from where he'd been squatting beside Sam, the two S&R workers moved the stretcher Sam was on to the ambulance. Once he'd been loaded inside, Al and Jamie climbed in the back with him.

"See you soon," Jim called after them. "I'll let Katie and Mom know what's going on."

"You think you could call Island Hoppers too?" Al asked. "Let TC know we didn't stiff him? He's Navy. Don't want to disappoint."

"I came over with him. He knows what's going on with you guys. Don't worry about it."

Al smiled. "Ok. Thanks, Jim." He then turned and focused his attention on Sam as Jim closed the rear doors to the ambulance, thumping on them twice to signal they were closed.

While Al and Jim said their goodbyes, Jamie concentrated on stabilizing Sam. Even though he'd taken some water orally, it was probable that he was still dehydrated. "Sam, I'm going to start an IV on you. I want to get some fluids in you in case you're dehydrated and it's going to help warm you up. You're going to feel a little stick, ok?"

Sam lay quietly while Jamie prepped him for the IV. As soon as he felt the stick of the needle, he tried to pull his arm way from the small pain.

Seeing Sam's reaction, Al put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "He's trying to help you, Sam. Let him."

Sam swallowed dryly and nodded his head. "Hurts," he told his friend but he held perfectly still while Jamie once again attempted to start the IV. If Al said this would help, he'd trust him.

"I know, Sammy, but it's only a little hurt and it's gonna help you feel better."

"All set. That wasn't too bad was it," Jamie asked once the IV was established. He reached into one of the compartments in the back of the ambulance and pulled out another blanket. This one was one of the silvery "space" blankets and he tucked that in over Sam.

After the blanket was tucked and the warm fluids were dripping in, Al watched as Sam slipped into the comfort of sleep. He was at first concerned, but Jamie told him it was ok. The doctor nodded to the equipment taking readings of all of the man's vital signs and told Al that right now; Sam needed that rest as much as anything.

When they got to the visitor center, Sam was moved to the chopper and both Jamie and Al went with him again. As they took off, Al couldn't help but comment, "I guess that's one bright thing in all this. Sam won't even remember this chopper ride."

"I take it he still doesn't like heights," Jamie commented off-handedly as he checked the readout on the cardiac monitor Sam was hooked up to then pulled the blankets more snugly around him.

"I think it's more like he hates them." Al watched as Jamie watched the blips on the heart monitor and wondered if Sam would suffer any the difficulties he had a couple of months ago. "There's nothing wrong with his heart, is there?"

"Hmmm? Uh, no. Everything looks good. I'm just being careful because hypothermia can cause cardiac problems."

"Oh. Ok," Al answered. He looked down for a moment and then back up. "I think I need to apologize to you. Earlier this week, I wasn't exactly acting very kind to you. According to Sam, you provided excellent care to me and now you're doing the same for him. I guess I should be grateful you've been there."

Jamie busied himself check the drip on the IV and checking Sam's pulse again. "I can't say I really appreciated your response, but I do understand. I'm just glad I was able to help you and that I'm able to do the same for Sam now."

Al nodded. "You know, I understand why Jim was on the team. He knew where we were going and it makes sense that he'd figure the two missing men were us. What I don't understand is why you're here."

Jamie took a breath before answering. "When I decided on medicine, it was to help. I do that in my day job, of course, but it's different." He looked at Sam. "Strangely enough, he's part of it."

Al looked confused. "Huh? I didn't think you two got along."

Jamie gave a small laugh. "Only after Tom died. Before then, Sam always wanted to hang out with Tom so there were lots of time he was around. Tom and Sam were close."

"I still don't understand."

"Well, there was an abandoned quarry close to Elk Ridge. There was a sort of manmade lake there and we used to go there to swim in the summer. Once, Tom, Sam, and I had gone swimming. We'd been there for a good part of the day and were ready to go home. We'd started to head out of the quarry and Sam stopped us."

Jamie looked sort of to the side as if remembering the day. "He said he heard something. I wanted to leave and Tom agreed, but Sam insisted. I'd told Tom we should just head out, that Sam would have to follow but he wouldn't leave his little brother behind." Jamie laughed ruefully remembering that day. "He said his mom would skin him alive if he didn't bring Sam back with him. Knowing Thelma Beckett, she would have. Anyways, after a few tries of getting Sam to leave, Tom changed his mind. Said if Sam was this sure we needed to find out what the sound was, we should do that."

"Did you find out what it was?"

"Yeah. We did. This kid, not more than about five had found his way there and had gotten stuck. We were able to get him lose and back to his house. The thing was, if we hadn't, the kid probably would have died. There was a hell of a rainstorm that night and where he was got flooded big time." He paused again. "I have to admit, I hadn't thought of that until after the situation last year but I thought of the good that Sam had done and decided that maybe I should try to help out that way. I joined the search and rescue team after that."

Al blinked slightly. "I don't know what it is about him, but he has a way of making people sort of think about things differently. Certainly happened to me."

"Yeah, he definitely is unique."

Sam moaned slightly and his eyes started to flicker open. "Al? 'S'cold. 'M cold."

At the sound of Sam's voice both men turned to him. Jamie hung back as Al moved closer. As Sam had moved, the space blanket had loosened and Al started to tuck it around him again. "It's ok, Kid. I'm sure we'll be to the hospital soon."

"Th-th-thought we w-w-were g-g-g-oing home," Sam forced out through teeth that had started to chatter again. His entire body was shaking. "So cold."

"That's because you're starting to warm up, Sam. You're starting to feel how cold you are again," Jamie explained.

"We'll go home as soon as the doctor's say you're ready." Al smiled gently at his friend. "You wouldn't want your mom to come after me 'cause I didn't take care of you, would you?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "No," he whispered as his eyes started to slip closed again. "Tired."

"You just rest then." Al put his hand out and brushed the hair away from Sam's forehead. "He really doesn't need this. It's like fate or something is testing him. I hope he gets a break."

Jamie was about to ask what the older man meant but the helicopter was in its final preparation for landing and he needed to get things set to move Sam quickly. As the aircraft set down at the hospital's heliport, things began happening quickly. In what seemed like seconds, the injured man was moved into the ER. Al was also brought in so that his wrist could be properly set and he could be checked over.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been in the hospital room. He had only the vaguest memory of arriving at the hospital and no memory at all of how he got there. The last thing he clearly remembered was falling down the incline and arguing with Al about a bottle of water in the backseat of the Cherokee while they waited for help to find them.

The fact that he was now in a hospital bed safe and, if not completely warm, not as cold, told him that help had found them. His thinking was still a little foggy but based on the fact that the fluid in the IV running into his arm was being warmed and that he'd woken to an oxygen mask that was providing warmed air, he knew he was being treated for hypothermia.

He wondered where Al was. He was surprised that he wasn't in the room keeping watch as he always did. Sam hoped that didn't mean that something had happened to his friend that he couldn't remember. He never should have suggested going to the observatory – not with Al out of the hospital after surgery so recently. If anything had happened to his friend, he didn't think he'd be able to forgive himself.

He was just hiking the blankets piled over him higher when the door to the room started to open. Even though he could feel that the room was warm and he was being given warmed IV fluids and oxygen, he didn't think he'd ever be warm again. He idly looked toward the door thinking it was the nurse coming in to check his vitals again. "Al?" he questioned when he saw his friend being pushed into the room in wheelchair. "What happened?"

Al held up his arm, sporting a turquoise blue cast. "They had to put this on." As the wheelchair stopped beside the other bed in the room, the orderly put on the brakes, stepped around and pulled the covers back on the bed next to Sam's. He then turned to Al, who'd already started to stand up, to help him. Batting away the offered help, Al grumbled, "I know the drill. I'm not an invalid you know."

The orderly stepped back. The look on his face said without words that he'd figured out, probably from experience, that not pushing it with the older man was probably in his best interest. "Ok, but if you need anything, you have that call butt..."

"Yeah. Trust me. I know what a call button is and how to use it," Al said, getting under the covers. Once he was ensconced in the bed he let out a frustrated sigh. He looked over to Sam. "How're you feeling, Kid?"

"Cold. A little confused," Sam replied as his brow furrowed. "Is something else wrong, Al? Why did they admit you?"

"Jamie said that since I was just released, it was probably a good idea." He didn't mention to Sam that it was also the only way he was going to be allowed to stay with Sam. Dr. Walters also had said it wasn't an option for him to sit by Sam's side. He needed rest, and he could get it at home or in a hospital bed. Al hadn't been happy about it but he did understand that Jamie had given him the option for a reason. He'd only agreed to the overnight observation when he'd been assured that he'd be in the same room as his friend.

"But there's nothing else?" Sam questioned anxiously.

"No. Nothing else. Just observation."

Sam pulled the oxygen mask off his face tired of the muffling effect it had on his voice as well as the claustrophobic feeling it gave him. "I'm sorry. If I hadn't wanted to go to the observatory, this wouldn't have happened."

"Don't do this, Sam. It wasn't your fault. Who the hell would have thought we'd hit a snow storm in Hawaii?" Al let out a breath. "Besides, we wouldn't have even been there if I hadn't set up the private tour." He paused. "How's your knee?"

Sam glanced down at the joint in question. "I don't know. They must have given something so I'm not really feeling it right now or I'm still too cold." He could feel that there was a heavy brace on his knee. "I'm guessing I messed it up pretty bad. I don't think I'm going to be able to escape surgery this time." He drew a deep breath and addressed the first of what Al had said. "I'm not playing the guilt game, Al. It was my idea and, apparently, it turned out to be a bad one. I am sorry I suggested it."

"You're not the only one that thought it was a good idea. I was looking forward to seeing Laura." He looked at his casted wrist. "You know, I think you two would have really gotten along. You both have sort of similar personalities."

"Aaa-lll," Sam said warningly. "Don't do it. Don't start playing matchmaker for me. You know I hate that."

"I didn't mean it that way, Sam. Really. It's like I said, Laura and you would get along."

"That's your code for 'I'm trying to fix you up'. Just don't do it, ok. It's bad enough when Mom tries or when she starts getting on me for still being single. I'm happy. Is it a crime not to have a woman in my life and to still be happy?"

"No. That isn't my 'code.'" Al rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, you have to be the most paranoid person I know when it comes to the opposite sex."

"I'm not paranoid. I'm just so tired of everyone thinking I need someone. Like I said, if it's not you, then it's Mom or someone else. Did you know that Tina wanted to fix me up with someone who just moved into her apartment building? It's like I have a sign on me or something that says 'needs date.' I wish everyone would just stop."

"Well, in this case, you're wrong." Al turned his body to face towards Sam. "Dr. Laura Pelletier is a brilliant scientist. She was responsible for some incredibly insightful experiments that have changed the way astrophysicists look at deep space."

Leaning his head back against the pillow, Sam looked up to the ceiling and rolled his eyes. He barely paid attention to what Al was saying. "Stop it. Just stop it," he begged. He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. "Next you're going to tell me what intelligent babies we could make."

"I doubt that would have a chance in hell of happening, Sam." Al said drily.

Sam sat up and looked over at Al. "Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I'd have to believe that Laura would either leave her husband for you or decide to have an affair. Either of those would be way out of character for her...or you."

"Husband?" Sam asked in a low voice. "I...um...I..." He stumbled over his words unsure what to say. "Husband," he repeated as he lay back down and pulled the blankets over his body once again. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Al answered. "I don't always try to set you up, Sam. What about Beverly Frost, huh? Or Leslie Pillars? I didn't try to set you up with either of them." His voice held some hurt at his friend's accusation. Sure, there were times when he'd tried to get Sam to go out with someone, but it wasn't like he was some kind of a dating service. Besides, there had been a few times when Sam had actually had fun on a double date.

"I'm sorry," Sam said again. He rubbed his hand over his face once more. "I guess I'm still not thinking straight yet. I just...it always seems like someone's trying to set me up with some friend or something lately that I just thought..."

"Ok." Al said. He turned back to lie back against his pillow. Looking up at the ceiling he turned back to talking about his friend at the observatory. "She had me walk her down the aisle."

"That's nice." Sam only partially heard what his friend had said. His mind had drifted away to another thought. "Where are we? Does Mom know what happened?"

Al nodded. "Yeah. Don't you remember? Jim was one of our rescuers." At the look of confusion on Sam's face, he asked. "What do you remember?"

As he tried to remember all the bits and pieces, Sam's brow wrinkled. "A sheep, falling, a bottle of water, and I sort of remember Jamie Walters being there." He looked over in his friend's direction. "There's a lot more I'm missing, isn't there.?"

"There was. You got a little crazy there, Sam. Jamie Walters said it was the hypothermia."

"Um, I didn't do or say anything embarrassing, did I?"

Al considered the question. "Let's just say there were some difficulties...at least while I was there."

"I don't suppose you could define difficulties for me. And what do you mean by while you were there?"

"Well," Al started, "After you tried to get to the road..." He looked over to his friend, "And if you think going to the observatory wasn't the best choice, my sending you up the side of the ravine was really stupid." He looked really concerned, "You really think surgery's the only option now?"

"Don't really know," Sam responded with a shrug. "I haven't spoken with an orthopedic yet and I'm guessing you haven't. If the tear is any worse than it was, it'll only make sense. I was going to have to do it at some point anyway. I think this might have just moved the timetable up." Realizing how Al had insulted himself, he added, "And you weren't stupid. I could have refused to go if I really wanted to. It's not like you held a gun to my head."

"No, but you tried to tell me and I wouldn't listen."

"Like I said, I didn't have to do it so let's not go down the route, ok?"

"Yeah," the older man answered noncommittally. He still felt guilty that Sam's knee was now in really bad shape.

"Al," Sam chided, "I mean it. We're not going down that road. We both made some pretty hare-brained decisions on this one so let's just let it go."

"Fine. We won't discuss it anymore."

Sam knew by the tone of Al's voice that even though he was saying what his friend wanted to hear, he really didn't mean it. No matter what he said, Sam knew that Al would continue to feel guilt regarding what had transpired just as he knew he'd feel responsibility for it as well. He also knew that sometimes one of the best ways of helping Al to assuage his guilt was to let him help and be needed. "I wish they hadn't left the table all the way down at the foot of the bed with the cup of water. I can't reach it and I hate to call a nurse just for that."

"I'll help you, Kid," Al answered almost eagerly. He pushed back the covers and threw his legs over the side. Moving to Sam he repositioned the table and then added water to Sam's glass with the pitcher that was there. "Here you go, Sam." At that moment the door opened and the nurse walked in. "What are you doing out of bed, Admiral Calavicci? You're supposed to be resting.

Al turned at the voice. "Um, getting my friend water."

"That's what we're supposed to do. You're supposed to stay in bed."

"But..."

"No buts. Back in the bed."

"He was just trying to help," Sam offered in an effort to defend his friend.

The nurse looked over to him, "He should be resting. Dr. Walters said that rest was needed for him to heal. He said the Admiral was just in surgery a few days ago."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam replied chastised. He had a feeling that the nurse was a force to be reckoned with and right now he didn't think he had it in him to go up against any force stronger than a feather.

Al spoke up again, "Getting up doesn't mean I'm not resting, you know." At the look the nurse gave him, he expelled a frustrated sigh. "Fine. I'll get back in bed." He muttered mostly under his breath as he moved back, "With a look like that, you should have been an officer."

Sam caught Al's comment and had to stifle a laugh. The nurse, however, didn't find any humor in what Al had said or Sam's attempt to cover his laugh.

"When I'm on duty, I am," she quipped back. The nurse moved to Sam. "I need to check your vitals."

Sam swallowed hard when the woman turned in his direction. He noticed the thermometer in her hand and wondered where she was planning on putting it and suddenly regretted finding any humor in what Al had said. When she pulled the curtain between the two beds hiding Al from his sight, his suspicion was confirmed. "Oh boy," he said a very low voice.

"I think you know the drill, Dr. Beckett."

"You know, there's a lot of literature out now that an otic thermometer that measures the temperature of the tympanic membrane is a lot better at getting a core temperature reading. I don't suppose you've got one of them do you?"

"When your doctor provides orders that we should change to that system, I'll change how your temperature is taken. Until then, this system works quite well."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam meekly agreed. Blowing out a breath, he submitted to the woman allowing her to carry out her duties.

After she was finished with temperature and blood pressure readings as well as checking his IV connection, she nodded. "Better. Dr. Walters will be pleased."

She allowed Sam to resettle himself before pulling the curtain back to its original position before moving to the other man and taking his vitals as well. This time, she didn't pull the curtain since she took his temperature with one that fit in the ear. Once she was finished, she left the room.

"She is not doing that again," Sam said once the nurse had left the room.

Al watched the door close and turned to Sam. "What?"

"What? What do you think I mean?" A visible shudder ran through him. "I'm not sure gentle is in her vocabulary."

"Well, I'm sure she was just following orders."

"Orders?" Sam queried slightly horrified. "I'll tell you what, next time she can have a crack at you. Better yet, maybe she can give you a sponge bath."

"You think she would?" Al asked, somewhat surprised at the possibility. This particular nurse didn't necessarily fit his idea of a woman to pursue, but he figured if he got a sponge bath, he could close his eyes and pretend.

Sam looked at his friend flabbergasted. "You'd really want...I mean...her? Al trust me, you do not want that and this has nothing to do with me being prudish or whatever you like to call me. She really doesn't know what gentle is. I feel like I could be the Thanksgiving turkey."

"Yeah, well..." Al said. "I'm not saying I want her to do it, I was just thinking about the idea of it." His brow furrowed as he replayed Sam's words though his mind. "And I'm not going to ask what the turkey thing means."

"Oh, good lord. Just one day? Can you go just one day without your mind taking a fieldtrip to the gutter?" As he made the request, Sam tried to shift his position in bed. When he did, he moved his left leg just enough to send a bolt of pain shooting through it from his knee and sucked in a quick, pain-filled breath.

Having been enjoying the banter, Al turned suddenly at the sound of pain that Sam made. "What is it, Kid? You want me to call the nurse?"

Sam squeezed his eyes closed as he road out the wave of pain. "No. S'ok," he forced out. He waited for the pain to lessen but it didn't seem to. Although it was quite as sharp, he was now aware of a continual throbbing pain in his knee. "I guess whatever they gave me is starting to wear off."

When the pain on Sam's face didn't subside, Al got up to see what the problem was. Seeing Sam's hand cradling his leg, he realized what was causing the problem. "Ah geez, Sam. It's your knee. I'm calling the nurse, whether you want me to or not. If it's hurting that bad, it should be looked at."

"No, Al," Sam disagreed. He tried to compose his face to show no pain. "I want to get out of here and go home. That's not going to happen if they're pumping me up with drugs." He looked at Al, pleading in his eyes. "Please don't."

"Sam..." Al replied, showing that his friend was asking for something he really didn't want to do.

Sam didn't answer, just looked at Al hoping he wouldn't force him.

"Ah...Kid," Al said as Sam's eyes worked on him again. "This isn't a good idea. What if..." he started only to be cut off by Sam's continued request.

"Al, there's nothing they can do right now besides give me pain meds. It's too swollen to even do an MRI on it to see what additional damage there is. I'm sure an orthopedic will be checking before I'm released and I'll make an appointment with Dr. Stone as soon as we get back to New Mexico." He turned what Al had come to call his puppy dog look on his friend full blast. "Trust me. It's just hurting a little right now but my leg's not going to fall off."

Al blew out a frustrated sigh when he saw that darned puppy look on his friend's face. He still hadn't found a way to become immune to it. "But you're in pain, Sam," he tried. "Maybe you can just say it's because of the hypothermia."

Sam wasn't able to hold back a chuckle at Al's idea. "Hypothermia doesn't generally cause pain. Attila the Nurse would know something was up." He turned more serious and reached out to grasp the older man's shoulder. "Don't worry. If it starts to hurt worse, I'll ask for something for it. I'm not a complete masochist, you know. I just don't want to stay here longer that necessary. Mom's already going to be upset that I've ruined Thanksgiving tomorrow."

As if conjured up by Sam's words, the door to the room opened and Thelma Beckett walked in followed by Katie. "Oh, Sam," she sighed when she saw her son in the hospital bed.

Al turned and saw the two women. Dressed as he was in the hospital gown they'd made him wear, he blushed slightly. As he went back to his bed, he greeted, "Hello Thelma...Katie. I guess you could say it's happened again."

"We really should take some extra insurance out on you two when you go somewhere," Katie joked.

Sam threw his sister a dirty look for the joke then gave his mother his attention. He grasped her hand. "I'm ok, Mom. I really am." Seeing that she wasn't buying what he was saying, he turned to his friend for support. "Tell her, Al. Tell her I'm ok…we're both ok."

Al bit at his lip. He'd withheld information from Thelma before when he'd talked to her over the phone. It was a lot harder when she was physically in the room. He looked over to Sam first and then to Thelma. "Um. Yeah. We're...um...well, we will be...I mean we're just here tonight for observation."

"Albert Calavicci," Thelma said sternly. "Don't you cover up for my son." She turned to Sam, her voice just as stern. "And you, Samuel, I don't want you asking your friend to cover for you or to treat me like a silly woman who can't take a little bad news." She swung her gaze back and forth between the two men. "Am I making myself clear to the both of you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam replied meekly.

Katie sat on the end of Al's bed and apprised the two men. "Might have worked if we hadn't talked to Jim first," she said by way of explanation. Her mother was good at figuring things out but in this case, she'd also had some help.

Al shrugged. "You ever seen the faces he makes? Maybe mothers are immune."

"I've seen the faces he makes plenty of times. There's not much my son can get away with." Thelma looked again at Sam. This time the stern look was replaced with one of love and concern. "I've known you since the day you were born, Sam. You should know there's nothing you can get by me. Now tell me how you really are. I talked to Jim but I want to hear it from you."

"I just got a little cold and hurt my knee again," Sam explained. Despite the fact that it probably would have no effect, he again tried the puppy dog look. "Really, Mom, that's all it is. I'm not hiding anything." He looked quickly in Al's direction hoping he'd back him up.

"You're on your own, Kid," Al answered his best friend's silent plea.

"Thanks for nothing," Sam grumbled.

"Smart man," Katie quipped at Al's answer. She looked at Sam. "Well, he is. I wouldn't go up against Mom when she has all the ammo."

"If you three children are done?" Thelma asked with an arched eyebrow. Once there was silence in the room, and three chagrined faces, she again asked, "Exactly what diagnosis is there, Sam, and don't just say you're a little cold. A little cold wouldn't have you bundled up in the blankets the way you are or this room feeling as warm as it is."

"Maybe I can help you, Mrs. Beckett," Jamie Walters said as he came in the room. No one had heard the door open. He approached the bed and looked Sam over as he spoke. "Sam's suffering from moderate hypothermia. His core temp's back up and right now we're mainly monitoring him. It also looks like he may have completely torn his ACL this time but until the swelling goes down some; an MRI won't give an accurate picture of what's going on."

"See, Mom, it's like I said."

Thelma briefly flickered her eyes in her son's direction and then back to the doctor. "And just how long will we have to wait until you know what exactly is wrong with his knee?" she asked coolly. "Perhaps it might be in Sam's best interest if another doctor were consulted."

"I can't help him heal any faster than nature allows, Mrs. Beckett," Jamie answered. "That's why we need to wait for the swelling to go down. An orthopedic surgeon did examine his knee in the ER and will be following up with him tomorrow morning. . Jamie continued to address Thelma's concerns calmly but he was hurt by her words. He'd been at the Beckett home many times with Tom while growing up and Thelma Beckett had, in a lot of respects, been a second mother to him. "If Sam would prefer a different doctor treating him, it's of course his choice."

Al spoke up. "He's a good doctor, Thelma. He stayed with Sam and took care of him." He felt he owed the man the backing.

Thelma looked between her son's friend and doctor. She found it hard to just forget how much Sam had suffered because of this man's unkind words but now it sounded like she owed him a debt of gratitude for Sam's life.

Seeing the struggle on his mother's face, Sam spoke up. "Mom, sometimes we need to forget about the past and make a new future. I don't remember some of what happened today but from what Al's told me, Jamie stayed with me until they got me out of the car and to the hospital."

Katie bit at her lip unsure if it were her place to interfere in this matter. "Mom? Jim says that Dr. Walters has done some really good work on the Search and Rescue team. I know that what happened when Tommy died was wrong, but didn't you and Dad raise us to forgive people and not hold grudges?"

Seeing how uncomfortable it was becoming for Thelma, Jamie attempted to smooth things over. "Mrs. Beckett, you have my sincerest apologies. What I said to Sam in the barn that day, I never should have. I'd like to say it was because I was young or that I was hurting but I think we both know those are just excuses. I always valued Tom's friendship and I always felt that the Beckett family was a second family to me." He looked down briefly then up to the older woman's face. "You know things weren't exactly great at home for me. I'd like it if I could feel that way about your family again, Ma'am. I guess I'm asking you to forgive me."

Thelma blinked her eyes, thinking back over the years. It was true that Jamie's family life hadn't been the best, at least after his mother died and his father remarried to a woman with three children of her own. The mix of families had been somewhat strained.

She recalled the many times that Tom had asked for Jamie to sleep over and the sounds of laughter that were usually a part of the evenings he was there. He'd been a good friend to Tom and, until she learned about the incident in the barn, had been kind to Sam as well, not complaining when her younger son would 'tag along' after Tom.

Still, Sam had been tortured through the years by the unkind words this man had said to him. It would be a long time before she could ever forget the heart-wrenching cries from her son or his pleas to wash off the blood that only he could see. Her heart was pulled by those memories. Hearing Katie's and Sam's pleas though, made her reconsider. She closed her eyes and said a small prayer, asking for help in forgiving. "Yes, Jamie. I forgive you."

"Thank you," Jamie said sincerely. "It means a lot to me, Mrs. Beckett." He looked over to Sam. "I'll have you out of here as soon as I can, Sam."

Silently, Sam nodded his head. "I appreciate that Jamie. I think I've seen way too many hospital rooms and I'd just as soon leave this one as soon as possible."

From the other bed, Al called out, "So, when do you think we can get sprung?" he quickly asked hoping to diffuse any lingering tension.

"Yeah," Sam chimed in. "How about now? Can we go home now?"

"No, you can not go home now," Jamie quickly responded. "Part of overnight observation means you stay put overnight. We still need to keep an eye on you, Sam. You know hypothermia can cause cardiac problems and given your family history and your own recent episode, we have to err on the side of caution."

Sam started to minutely shake his head 'no', his eyes wide when Jamie brought up the topic of cardiac problems. He'd yet to tell his mother about the hospitalization brought about by the drug interaction knowing she'd only worry. Now, it seemed that that cat had just been let out its bag.

"Just what episode is that, Sam?" Thelma asked pointedly.

"I…uh…I had a reaction to a drug interaction, Mom. It was nothing."

"I wouldn't call acute tachycardia nothing even if it was brought about by a drug interaction," Jamie added.

Sam looked between his mother, the doctor and his friend. He felt trapped and didn't know what to tell his mother. "Sam? I'm waiting," Thelma prompted. "What happened that you haven't told me? Why did you have a drug interaction?"

Sam looked over to Al feeling helpless and trapped. "What do I do?" he asked him hoping for guidance.

Al licked at his lips. "I don't think she's going to let it pass this time, Sam. We're going to have to tell her."

Jamie sensed that what was about to transpire was a family matter and that it would probably be best if he left. He glanced at his watch taking note of what time it is. "I have another patient I need to look in on. I'll be back in about a half hour to check on you again," he told Sam. "Mrs. Beckett, Katie, I can let you stay until then but then I'm going to have to enforce visiting hours. They both need to get some rest and it's starting to get late."

"We understand, Jamie," Katie answered. "Thanks."

Sam barely acknowledged the doctor's departure. "I don't think I can, Al. Maybe…maybe you can help me."

"Yeah, sure, Kid." Al took a deep breath and looked over to Thelma. "You know what Sam and I told you about Idaho?"

Thelma nodded. "Yes although I'm sure you both held a lot back." She looked down at Sam. "You didn't say anything about a drug interaction or any heart problems. I would like to know what that's about."

"It's just the different prescriptions I was on, Mom. I just had a reaction to them and it made my heart rate go up. That's all. Once they were out of my system, I was fine. The doctor did every test you can think of and a few extra but there's nothing wrong with my heart."

"That is true, Thelma. The doctor that prescribed them didn't know they'd have that affect on Sam."

"Ok. Then why were you taking these prescriptions?"

"Yeah, Sam," Katie chimed in. "It doesn't make sense that a doctor would give you stuff that's going to cause a reaction and I'd think you'd know that could happen."

"I wasn't thinking straight. So much had happened." Sam drew a deep breath and covered his face with his hands. As much as his mother and sister had a right to the whole story, he wasn't sure he was up to telling them.

Thelma rested her hand on Sam's shoulder rubbing comfortingly. "Start at the beginning, Son. It's always easiest from the beginning."

Al knew he'd told Thelma more about Idaho and even LA than Sam would be comfortable with. As bad as the things he'd told her, they didn't come close to how bad it had really gotten. He figured that telling them about the drugs might give the kid a break. "The prescriptions were a combination to take care of the pain from his knee, an anti-anxiety, and a muscle relaxant."

"I guess I understand the pain killers and the muscle relaxant but why anti-anxiety?" Katie questioned. Her brother had always been the level-headed one. It seemed odd that he'd need that kind of medication.

"Dr. Beeks says I've got PTSD...Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," Sam explained as calmly as he could. "That trip to Idaho - a lot more happened than I told you, Mom." He glanced over to Al again, looking for his aid and support.

"Sam?" Al said looking at his friend and knowing how hard this was for him. "You want me to tell them about what went down or do you think you can?"

"I don't know, Al. It's not easy." Sam took a deep breath determined to get out as much of the story as he could. "I saw our guide murdered. Those two men, one of them shot him and when I tried to help - tried to stop the bleeding - he shot him in the head." His voice began to tremble slightly. "He...Harry..." It was still a struggle for him to say the name, "...wanted to kill me too. He hated me." Sam stopped and picked up the cup of water taking a sip from it. "He kept saying things to me," he continued when he was done with the water. "I...I..." he looked at Al once more. "I can't."

"I know Sam," Al said, hurting for his friend. Before he could do anything, Katie spoke up. As Sam had spoken, her hand had gone to her mouth as she heard her brother speak. Now, with emotion she asked, "He murdered your guide? In cold blood? Couldn't you have done anything?"

Al turned to her sharply, "No. There wasn't anything we could do then or we'd both be dead now. You don't know what happened. When Sam tried to stand up to him, he almost killed your brother. Then that....that..." His face contorted as the anger he felt started to bubble up. Then looking at Sam and seeing his angst, he got up, not at all worried that he had on the hospital gown. He could see and hear the pain that Sam was still feeling and went over to his friend speaking to him alone. "He was a sadist. He hated you because you were so opposite everything he was."

"No," Sam disagreed shaking his head. "I wasn't. In the end I wasn't." He reached out to the cup of water again but this time, instead of picking it up to drink, he swept it from the table. "I wasn't. I was what he said I was." He looked around wildly trying to find a way to get out of the bed as the emotions of those days swept over him. "He can't be right, he can't."

Al could see Sam's anger taking over as it had several times these last few months. He'd started to read the signs as the PTSD reared its ugly head. "He wasn't right, Sam. Never was."

"Oh, Sam," Thelma said horrified at what her son had witnessed and the turmoil she could see in him. She again reached out to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder but he shied from her.

"Don't hurt me," Sam said fearfully. "I'll be good. I promise."

Thelma held her hand still in mid reach, shocked at her son's words and actions. "Sam...?" she started but Al cut her off.

"It's not you he's seeing now, Thelma. It's that bastard, Harry." He turned to Sam and put his good hand on his friend's shoulder kneading it gently. "He's not here, Sam. He'll never be here again. He was wrong and you need to shut his voice out of your head."

"No, no, no," Sam kept repeating. He shrugged away from Al feeling trapped between the two people on either side of the bed. Anger and fear warred for control over him and he felt as if he'd explode from the emotions. Spying a box of tissues on the table, he quickly reached for it and sent it sailing across the room. When that didn't have the desired effect, he reached for the pitcher of water next and sent it clattering to the floor.

"This all happened on the fishing trip?" Katie asked as she watched her bother break down in front of her. Her mother had told her that Sam and Al had had a difficult time this past August but this sounded like a nightmare. "Where did this Harry come from?"

"I don't think now's a good time for us to ask for an explanation," Thelma advised watching helplessly as her son lost all control. She longed to reach out to comfort and calm him but was afraid of the reaction that would garner. "Move that table away from him," she advised her daughter. There was nothing left on it that Sam could throw but it wouldn't have surprised Thelma if the table itself was Sam's next target.

Katie did as she was told, her eyes wide that her gentle brother was acting as if he was out of his mind. "Mom?" she asked, afraid of what this could mean.

Al realized his hand alone wasn't going to be enough. He threw his whole body against Sam's chest, still holding his shoulder in his grip. It wasn't the best leverage but the older man was determined to keep Sam from melting down entirely. "Stop it, Sam," he said firmly. "You need to calm down. It's over. It's been over for a while. You've got to let it go and not let those thoughts tear you apart."

"No. Let me up." Sam batted at Al's shoulder trying to get him to move. "Let me up. Don't hurt me. I won't move any more. Let me up."

Katie put her hand on Al's shoulder to pull him back. "What are you doing to him? Leave him alone. Isn't he upset enough?"

Thelma had never seen Sam like this. It was as if he'd snapped. She could see Al struggling to restrain her son and thought maybe if he wasn't, Sam would calm down. She knew that her son didn't like being restrained. "Al. Let him up. You're only making this worse."

Al didn't break his gaze with Sam. "No. This is what I need to do. Don't you see? He's having a flashback. He's not here with us. He's back in that tent with that bastard beating on him because his knee hurts." He quickly pulled his head back before Sam could connect with it. Desperately he added, "I need to keep him from doing something he'll regret later." He wasn't sure how far Sam would go but having experienced flashbacks himself he knew how terrifyingly real they could be. He'd almost killed an orderly during one once at Bethesda after being repatriated.

"Sam wouldn't hurt anyone!" Katie insisted. Sam was still pushing against Al and Katie stepped into the zone of the conflict, trying to pry Al's hand off of her brother.

Al's explanation frightened and stunned Thelma. She could see in her son's eyes that the man's explanation had to be right. Sam's eyes were glazed over and he didn't seem to recognize any of them or where he was. "Katie, I think Al knows what he's doing," she said tentatively. "Let him." It didn't seem like Al was taking any guesses but that he knew exactly what would calm Sam down. The only other option she could see was to call for help. Most likely, Sam would end up sedated and restrained if they did that. It was better to let Al try first.

Sam continued struggling to get free but after a few moments, the fight seemed to ebb out of him. He lay quietly against the pillow and instead of batting at Al to be free; he gripped his friend's shoulder with bruising force. "Don't let him hurt me, Al. Please."

Tears came to Al's eyes but whether it was the pain in his shoulder or the pain in his heart at Sam's plea that caused them, no one would ever know. "He can only hurt you, Sam, if **you** let him. That's the only way he can do anything now except burn in hell."

"But I didn't do anything." Sam's hand dropped limply to the bed. "I was only fishing. I just wanted to have fun."

"I know, Sammy," Al soothed. "It was supposed to be a chance to get back to normal and that was taken from anyone who moved into Harry and Ted's sphere during their crime spree. It wasn't your fault any more than it was Rick's, or the teller, or anyone else."

Sam's looked up at the man hovering over him and his face crumpled. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he whispered as silent tears started to slide down his cheeks.

"Oh, Sammy," Al sighed dismayed that Sam still seemed caught up in emotion and unable to recognize him. "I'm not your Dad, Buddy. It's Al. I'm Al."

"Al?"

"Yeah, Kid. It's Al…and your Mom and Katie are here too." Slowly, Al eased his tenuous hold certain that Sam wasn't going to fight anymore and that the anger, at least, had drained out of him. "It's gonna be ok, Kid. I promise." As the younger man reached up for him, Al pulled him into an embrace, holding him as tight as he dared. "We're gonna get through this," he said softly. "You just need some time."

When Sam called Al 'daddy', Thelma and Katie exchanged surprised looks. For a moment, Thelma resented the fact that Sam had not only given that title to Al but that he was the one who was offering comfort to her son right now. She quickly tamped down the resentment she felt. Right now, it had no place. The only concern was Sam if Al were able to reach through to him and offer him the comfort he needed, then that was important thing.

Katie, though, wasn't at all sure she liked hearing her brother call his friend the name that had been reserved for their father. Al was a good friend, but he wasn't and never could be their father. "What's that supposed to mean? Al's not Dad."

"Katie," Thelma said warningly. "Not now." The look she gave her daughter clearly communicated to her that although she wasn't happy with the appellation, she also knew that the why of it would have to come later.

"But..." Katie started but quickly stopped when she realized her mother meant business. "Ok. Fine," she finished, sitting down in a chair, crossing her legs and arms both.

Sam was oblivious to his mother's and sister's reaction to his error. He gripped Al harder. "I hate him Al." His voice was muffled by his friend's shoulder. "God forgive me. I hate him. I'm glad he's dead."

Al was somewhat shocked by Sam's confession. It wasn't that he felt the kid was wrong to feel that way. It was the realization that Harry had pushed Sam past his natural tendencies. The Sam Beckett he had gotten to know over the years always managed to find some reason to see value in a human being. "What?" Al asked, not sure he really understood.

Sam heard more than just a question in the single word Al said. He heard condemnation and disappointment in it as well and tried to pull away. "I'm sorry. Please don't go away. I won't say it again."

Al was dismayed by Sam's reaction to his question and clarified, "No Sam. Don't say you're sorry. You have every right to feel the way you do. What he did to you was nothing less than torture. I know and I know why you feel that way." Sam's head had dropped and Al lifted his chin to look at him. "I'm not leaving, Kid. Not by a long shot. You're gonna have to trust me though. You can't keep letting him eat into you. You can't give him that power over you."

"You're not disappointed in me?" Sam asked in confusion. He looked over to the side where his mother was. "Mama? I'm sorry I said those things, Mama."

Thelma moved closer to Sam now that he'd addressed her. Her hand went to him once more, brushing his hair back. "Sam...honey...I'm still not sure what happened..." The few things she'd gathered from this situation made it clear her son had been put through hell. "But I think Al's right. You can't let what he did destroy you. It's not wrong to hate evil."

Sam nodded sadly then leaned forward into Al's shoulder once more. "I'm cold," he said softly.

Al ran his hand up and down Sam's back. He could feel the tremors running through his body both as a reaction to the stress he was under as well as his continuing recovery from the hypothermia. "You need to snuggle back down in the covers, Kid." He gently pulled Sam away from his shoulder, pushed him back against the pillow and then stood up, pulling the covers up, smoothing them as he did. "That better?" he asked once he was done.

"No." Sam shook his head slightly and seemed to be struggling to find the words he wanted. "I don't like the way I feel."

"The way you feel?" Thelma asked, moving to take the position that Al had vacated. She wondered if this was a symptom of something else. "How do you feel, Son?" She took his hand into both of hers and found it didn't seem as cold as she would have expected based on the hypothermia.

"Afraid and I don't know why. I don't like feeling this way."

"There's nothing here to be afraid of," his mother answered as she had when he was little and he'd woken, scared and afraid, sure they was a monster in his closet.

Once more Jamie Walters managed to enter the room without anyone realizing it. He came in just in time to hear the last of what Sam had said. "Don't like feeling what way, Sam?"

Sam looked quickly over to Al. "Don't tell him," he whispered. "He won't let me go home tomorrow."

Al looked between the two men, trying to decide what to do. On the one hand, he wanted the kid sprung. On the other, he didn't want Sam putting himself at further risk. If there was something wrong, he wanted him to get better. His dilemma was solved when Katie spoke up. "Sam had some kind of flashback. He's been upset," she answered bluntly. She was still upset about Sam using the word Daddy and didn't understand why her brother was acting the way he was.

Al realized from the questioning look on Jamie's face that, like it or not, Katie's answer would have to be expanded on. "He didn't just hurt his knee today. I'm sure you noticed early this week he was limping. That happened during a situation where Sam ran into someone that made his life hell. He's having problems with the memories."

"Sam? Are they right? Are you upset about what happened when you were hurt the first time?" Jamie had a feeling it was best to tread lightly right now. There was something in Sam's eyes that reminded him of a frightened animal that had been cornered. He received the barest of nods from Sam in answer to his questions.

He made note of the cardiac monitor on the wall behind the bed. Although not dangerously high, Sam's heart rate was elevated. He was willing to bet it wasn't the only thing that was. He pulled the blood pressure cuff out of the basket near the monitor. "You mind if I check your BP then we can get you something to help you feel better?" He waited until he received another small nod before wrapping the cuff around Sam's arm. "It's a little high," he reported once he'd taken the reading. "I want you to get some rest and calm down. I'm going to order a mild sedative for you."

"No," Sam quickly disagreed at the mention of the word sedative. "Not like last time."

"No, it's not going to be like last time," Jamie reassured him. "It's going to be really mild - just to take the edge off so you can relax. You need to relax. Will you let me give you something to help?"

"Whether he wants to or not, you take care of him, Jamie," Thelma said, worried by Sam's reactions. "Don't you let me have to face..." She trailed off not wanting to put voice to her fears. Since walking into Sam's room tonight, she'd learned of the horrors he'd faced which may have triggered heart problems. Her memories of the Beckett's heart issues came to the fore.

"But..." Sam started to say only to be cut off by Al.

"Why don't you listen to him, Sam? You do need to rest," the older man counseled. "Besides, you're worrying your mother. Don't want that do you?"

Hearing that Sam might truly be at risk, Katie got up as well. "He says it's just a mild one. That couldn't hurt anything, could it?"

"Ok," Sam agreed half-heartedly when it seemed everyone in the room thought contrary to him

"Good. I'll have the nurse bring it in for you." Jamie turned to Thelma and Katie. "I'm sorry to do this. I know right now you're worried about Sam and would probably rather stay but he needs to rest right now and it's hard for anyone to do that while being watched. You can come back tomorrow morning when visiting hours begin but right now, I am going to have to ask you to head home. I'll make sure he's being looked after and monitored."

Thelma, still sitting on the bed put her hand up to her son's face and ran her thumb back and forth along his cheek. Her words, though, she spoke to Jamie. "He's my only son, now. You know that. I'm putting my trust in you, Jamie Walters. Don't let me down."

"I won't Ma'am. You have my word."

Katie went over to her mother. She knew that while her mother was a strong woman, at times she'd still keenly grieve the loss of her husband and oldest son. She could tell the idea that Sam could be hurt or worse was bothering her greatly. "It'll be ok, Mama. Sam's going to be fine. With Jamie and Al on his case to get better, he doesn't have a choice." She looked over to her brother, "Right, Sam?"

"Yeah. Katie's right, Mom." Sam did his best to pull himself together at least for his mother's sake. Although he was still feeling the irrational fear and anger beating at him, he did his best to quell it. "Go on home and get some rest. It's getting late and I'm just going to sleep. You know how boring that can be."

Thelma looked into her son's eyes, still not sure but finally relented. She gave him a brave smile. "Ok, but you do what you're told. I know how sometimes you let your stubborn streak get the best of you." Suddenly she moved in, giving him a kiss on the forehead, like she'd done when he was a child. "I love you, Little One," she said softly as she pulled back slightly.

"Love you too, Mama."

Katie also said her goodbyes and the two women left the room with the promise that they'd be back the next day. Jamie lingered for another few minutes, questioning both Sam and Al to see if either were having any difficulties then left the room as well.

When the two men were along in the room again, Al settled on the side of Sam's bed again. He was careful when he did so not to jostle the injured knee. "You feel a little better now, Kid?"

"A little," Sam agreed. He was still looked in the direction of the door where Thelma and Katie had gone. "Why was Katie angry? Did I say something to her or do something to her.?"

Al heaved a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn't surprise him that Sam didn't remember what he'd said. He'd come to learn that when Sam had flashbacks as intense as this one had been, he often either didn't remember what happened or he deliberately blocked it out. He wasn't sure which it was and wasn't about to quiz Sam on that. He didn't get a chance to answer before the nurse came in.

"You do have a hard time understanding staying in the bed, don't you, Admiral?" she questioned as she looked at Al sternly.

This time, he didn't care what the woman said or thought. He was staying right where he was until he was sure Sam didn't need him there anymore. "I'm not moving so just drop it," he shot back at the nurse.

Either she'd been warned by Jamie or there was something in Al's tone of voice but this time she didn't press the issue. "Suit yourself." She held out a small medicine cup to Sam that had a lone pill in it. "Dr. Walter's wants you to take this."

Sam accepted the cup and looked at the pill dubiously. "What is it?"

"Lorazepam. He mentioned that you were quite upset. It should help settle you down."

Still unsure about the merits of taking a sedative, Sam hesitated then swallowed the pill with some of the water in the cup the nurse handed to him.

"If you either of you need anything, you know what to do." The nurse gave one more glance at Al, still miffed that he wasn't doing as she said, then left the room.

"You know, I don't think she likes me." Al was hoping to lighten the mood just a little and maybe distract Sam from his earlier question. As much as Katie had been angered by Sam's use of the word 'daddy', he had a feeling Sam would be even more upset.

"You didn't answer me," Sam pressed. "Why was Katie angry? Did I say something or do something?"

"Well..." Al said, putting his hand on his neck and rubbing lightly, "I think you were just confused."

"Al," Sam warned. "That pill's going to start working and I'm going to be really confused. What aren't you telling me?"

"Um...it really wasn't that...." The look on Sam's face was showing he was quickly losing patience. "Like I said...you were confused and you thought I was your dad," Al said quickly.

"I thought you were Dad? So I called you Dad or something?" Al's explanation hadn't helped Sam to break through the fog of confusion. He hated that sometimes he couldn't remember what he did or said when the episodes, as he'd come to call them in his mind, happened.

"Yeah. You were pretty distraught. I think you were probably just thinking about him and the words came out...that's all."

"Words? What words? Can't you just tell me exactly what it was that got Katie so upset? I thought she was going to hit me when she said goodbye." Sam wiped his hand over his face. "I hate feeling confused like this. I feel like everything's getting out of control. Help me out, Al. Please."

Al let out a breath. "You were thinking about Harry and you asked me not to let him hurt you." He paused. "I tried to get you to see that the only way he could keep hurting you is if you let him."

"And that's what Katie was upset about." Sam shook his head slightly trying to clear the cobwebs that seemed to be growing. "Either you're leaving something out or that stuff is working a whole lot faster that usual." He took a shaking breath. "I'm sorry I keep making you repeat the same stuff over and over."

"Don't worry about it, Kid." Al continued to explain to Sam what had happened. "Then you said all you wanted was to go fishing. That you only wanted to have fun. I told you it wasn't your fault. That anyone that walked into Harry's and Ted's world that weekend had their life turned inside out. That's when you said you were sorry and called me daddy."

"I called you 'Daddy'?" Sam's eyes grew wide in surprise. "Oh boy. No wonder she was so upset. I just...I don't think straight when it happens. You...you..." he stumbled trying to find the right words. "You make me feel safe when it happens - like Dad could make me feel safe. It doesn't mean...I don't mean." He let out a small sigh. "Mom and Katie must think I'm replacing Dad with you." He punched the mattress lightly. "Damn it. Why does that keep happening?"

"I understand that, Sam. I could never replace your father and would never want to. I'm sure your Mom and Katie understand what happened inside and they'll figure it out once they think about it. I think that she was reacting more to the flashback than anything else."

"Sure they understand," Sam said ruefully. "They understand that I'm forgetting about my own father. They understand that I've given you the name only he had." He looked down for a brief moment then back to Al shaking his head slowly again. "How can they understand when I don't?"

Al blinked at Sam's answer. "What do you mean?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Sam echoed back.

"You're not forgetting your father. You said it yourself. It's a feeling you get and when that happens, you feel your father's presence. That's not forgetting him, Sam. That's remembering him." He took a second to think through his next words. "If I'd had a child, I would have been blessed to have a son like you, Kid. As it is, I feel honored to know that in some small way I can help you feel the way you did around your dad. But like I said, I know I'll never fill that spot."

"You'd want a son like me?" Sam pushed himself up from the pillow. The lorazapam was already starting to work making him uncoordinated and clumsy. "Even though I'm a lot of work, you still want someone like me?"

Al smiled. "You're not that bad, Kid. Well worth the work." He chuckled slightly. "And you're no more work that I am." He took note of how Sam was having trouble coordinating himself. "You're feeling pretty good now, I'd wager,"

"Kinda numb. Everything's starting to get blurry," Sam said around another yawn. "Feels like me head's stuffed with fluff."

"Sort of like Pooh, huh."

"Like Bear," the younger man responded as he sank back down to the pillow.

"Yeah," Al said. He'd become accustomed to the fact that Sam tended to overreact to sedatives. Somehow, though, after all the stress the Kid had been through, it seemed fitting he could get a little respite. "You go on to sleep now. Get that rest that Jamie said you need." As he spoke he smoothed the covers as he had before.

"Yeah, sleep. No dreams. Don't want no dreams". As he spoke, Sam burrowed down under the blankets as they were smoothed over him, rolling over onto his side and curling up as much as he could with the brace on his knee. "Don't like bad dreams."

"You've had too many of them. Time to have nice ones again."

"Mmm hmmm...you kill the bad monster ones." More asleep than awake now, Sam's voice was no more than a murmur. "Sir Al."

"Yeah. No dragons tonight." Al brushed the hair back from Sam's face, seeing the almost angelic peacefulness on his face. He watch as Sam drifted off to sleep. Making sure the covers were smooth, then made his way back to his own bed. He lay down facing Sam. Sometime during his watch of the gentle rise and fall of his friend's easy sleep, he too eventually fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"_Wake up Al."_

"_Not now. I'm having a good dream."_

"_No. Wake up. We need to make it to the airport by nine otherwise we'll miss our plane and I'm so looking forward to this trip."_

"_Yeah. It'll be fun. It's been awhile since we got away and just had a nice time."_

"_Yeah, and wait until you see the suit I got. I think you're going to like it."_

"_I always like what you wear," Al purred._

"Oh really?"

Al opened his eyes as the voice changed and when he looked up, he found himself looking into the face of a woman in a nursing uniform. "Who are you?" he asked confused.

"My name's Lindsey Coulter. I'm your nurse."

"Oh. Yeah. I'm in the hospital, right?"

"Yes, you are. And I need to take your vitals, then you can go back to that nice dream you were having."

Al smiled. "It was a nice dream." For the first time in years, he'd been dreaming about Beth. The short time they were together before he shipped off for his second tour of Vietnam. His lips curled as he remembered their trip to Mazatlan. With a sad breath, he realized that's all it would ever have. Dreams.

As the nurse took his vitals, he looked over to the other bed and was surprised to see Sam still sleeping. "Wow. I haven't seen that in awhile."

"Seen what," Lindsey asked somewhat distracted as she finished taking blood pressure.

Al nodded to the other bed. "Sam sleeping this late. He hardly ever does that." He could see that sun was creeping through the curtains. He knew by the light that dawn was long past. "What time is it anyways?"

"It's about 8:00." Lindsey looked over to where Sam was still sleeping. "He must be a pretty deep sleeper. He barely stirred when I did a vitals check on him."

"Depends. Sometimes yes, sometimes no." Al paused. "How were they?"

"He's doing well." The nurse smiled at Al sensing the concern in the older man for his friend. "You don't have to worry about him."

"If only that were true," Al said somewhat absently. "Course, last night was really a pretty good night for him. Only woke up once. His leg was hurting but once he got another dose of painkiller, he went right back to sleep. He sure needs it."

"Well, rest is the best thing." Lindsey finished her vitals check on Al. "There anything you need?"

"Coffee would be wonderful."

"They should be bringing in your breakfast tray soon. If there's anything else, just buzz."

Al blinked at her answer. "You asked."

Smiling and reminding Al once more that if he or Sam needed anything, they should buzz for a nurse, Lindsey left the room.

When she left the room, Al got out of bed to head to the restroom. "Hope breakfast is soon," he mumbled to himself as he went to take care of business. When he came back out, Sam was still sleeping. He stopped by the younger man's bed and watched him sleep for a minute. As peaceful as he looked right now, it was almost easy to forget how upset he'd been the night before or that he'd another flashback to their time in Idaho.

Sighing softly, Al went back to his bed and picked up the TV remote. He kept the volume low so that he wouldn't disturb Sam.

About 20 minutes after the nurse left, the door opened again and an orderly with one of their breakfast trays walked in. He checked the ticket. "You're Albert Calavicci, right?"

"Yeah. That's me. What do I get today?"

The orderly shrugged. "Don't know. You'll have to take the lid off I guess." He put the tray down on the bed table and left the room to get Sam's.

Al watched as the man left. "Not the most customer conscious hospital I've ever been in," he commented as he pulled the lid off the plate. "Oatmeal? With fruit? What's going on?"

The man returned a moment later with another tray. When he got to Sam's bed, he looked a little concerned. "He's sleeping. Maybe I shouldn't leave this."

"No. Leave it. I'll wake him up."

"Fine." He put the tray down and left before Al could ask about the meal.

Getting up again, Al went over to Sam's bed. He reached out and shook his friends shoulder. "Wakey, wakey, Sam."

"Huh? Wha?" Sam asked sleepily. He didn't open his eyes yet and tried to hunch deeper into the blankets to get away from the hand that was shaking him.

"Come on, Sam. Breakfast is here. You need to eat something."

Sam opened one eye and looked at his friend balefully. "You're waking me up for that?"

"Yeah. I know. Heck, I'm not thrilled with my breakfast this time but neither of us ate much yesterday."

"I'll eat when we get back to Katie's." Sam tried to roll over to go back to sleep but was stopped by Al's arm on his shoulder. "C'mon, Al. I don't want it," he complained.

"Sam? Come on Buddy. If you don't eat, they might think you still need to be here. I thought you'd want to get out of the hospital sooner than later this time."

"I don't care," Sam whined. "I don't want to eat it. I was sleeping and it doesn't mean I have to be here. I can go home anytime I want."

"Ok, fine," Al said. "Go on back to sleep." Al knew from experience that although Sam usually woke early, when he did sleep in late he was usually hard to wake up and grumpy when he did. He didn't take his friend's churlishness seriously knowing it would wear off in a few minutes. "Just don't say I didn't try." He started to move back to his own bed and the bowl of grey oats that was his own breakfast. "I don't think I've eaten oatmeal like this since the orphanage."

"You can have mine if it's better," Sam offered then rolled back over with a sigh. "I'll eat the oatmeal. It's probably better than whatever's under there." He pointed at the covered plate on his tray table.

Knowing how often Sam complained about hospital food, Al decided to tease his friend a little. "I'll bet you're right."

"So take it and just give me that."

Al's eyebrows rose. "So, you want the good oatmeal, huh? You'd do that? Have me eat something even worse?" He was continuing the light teasing.

"I'm really not in the mood," Sam grumped. "Eat whatever you want. I told you I really didn't want anything anyway."

"You're not even going to look?"

"Al, I just woke up. Give me a break, ok," Sam snapped. "I don't really care what's under it. You're the one who doesn't like what you got so it's either eat that, take a chance with what I have, or ring and see if you can get something different. I told you, I really don't care. It's all the same to me."

"Geez, Kid," Al complained, although with a touch of teasing. "Touchy." He got out of the bed and moved back to where Sam was and lifted the lid. His eyes widened at the meal on the plate. "I don't believe it. How did you luck out? If you really don't want this, the oatmeal is toast."

Sam eyed the French toast with berries on top of it. For a change, it looked like he was actually served something in a hospital that looked good. Still, he'd offered Al that he'd trade with him and he didn't want to go back on that.

Al continued, "Actually the oatmeal stays oatmeal." He looked at Sam. "You sure you don't want this? You know we could share it."

"I guess we could do that," Sam agreed. Although the French toast did look good, he didn't think he could eat all of it.

"Ok." Al went over and picked up the small plate with an over toasted English muffin and tossed the charcoaled food in the trash. A few minutes later, the two men were sharing Sam's breakfast.

"This isn't bad," Sam said in surprise when he was almost finished with his half of the French toast.

"Yeah. It's definitely better than the gray oatmeal over there. I swear, it's the consistency of library paste."

"And you always make fun of me when I say the food's bad." Sam put the last bite in his mouth and talked around it. "Bet you believe me now."

"Well....this is pretty good," Al pointed out after swallowing a bite. "And I've never said that all hospital food is great, just that usually you're way too critical."

"I'm not critical." Sam leaned back from the tray table with a contented sigh. "I just know what I like."

"Yeah. I know what you like too." Al took the last berry off the plate and popped it into his mouth.

"Hey, I was going to eat that," Sam said in mock hurt when he saw Al eat the berry.

"I'll get you a pint of them later."

"But it won't be that one." Before he could continue his teasing, Sam made a face of distaste and reached for the call bell.

"What's the matter, Sam," asked Al, instantly concerned.

"Nothing. I just can't get out of bed and I have to...you know."

"Oh." Al answered. He nodded to the door. "You want me to see if I can rustle someone up a little quicker?"

"Yeah, that might be nice." There was just a touch of urgency to Sam's voice.

Al started to the door before realizing he still had on the hospital gown. He walked back to the bed and pulled off his blanket, wrapping it around him not unlike a Roman tunic before he headed to the door again.

As he opened the door, a nurse was on her way in. Smiling Al tried to explain his odd attire, "A little late for Halloween but it would have made a great costume."

Having seen patients do many things trying to preserve their modesty in the hospital gowns, the nurse didn't even raise an eyebrow at Al's attempt. "One of you need something?"

Al nodded. "Yeah. My friend. Nature's calling but technology isn't being cooperative."

"Well, I can help with that." The nurse retrieved the necessary items from the bathroom and pulled the curtain around Sam's bed. After a few minutes, she pulled it open.

"Thanks," Sam said softly. Despite having gone through this routine before, his cheeks were still stained pink with embarrassment.

The nurse nodded to acknowledge Sam's thanks then went into the bathroom to clean up. "Just ring again if you need anything."

Al had been a little surprised at the activity. He thought the nurse would have helped his buddy out of the bed. "Ah, Sam. I didn't know she'd do that."

"No choice really. I'm sort of stuck here as long as I'm hooked up to all this stuff."

"Well, hopefully it won't be for long."

"From your lips to God's ears," Sam said hopefully. "This is not how I planned on spending Thanksgiving." He lightly punched the bed. "Geez, I've probably completely ruined dinner."

"Don't start beating yourself up, Kid. I'm sure your Mom and Katie understand."

Before Sam could answer, Jamie Walters walked into the room. Al hadn't removed the blanket yet. "What are you doing, Al? A soliloquy from _Julius Caesar_?" he asked with a smile.

"Um. No. Just trying to keep a little dignity. Figured without a robe, this was the best way."

Jamie smiled again and went over to Sam's bed. "I hear your temperature's been normal for the past six hours and your vitals are fine. Unless there are any other problems, we should be able to get you out of here today."

"I feel fine," Sam agreed. "Can't you just unhook me from all of this stuff so I can go home and salvage something out of the day?"

"I wouldn't be doing my job if we didn't make sure, Sam. You know that." Jamie looked over the chart again. "Don't worry, though. I'll get you out of here as soon as I can and like I said, after that, you don't ever need to speak with me again."

"What? Why don't you want me to speak with you? I thought we made peace." Not giving Jamie a chance to explain, Sam waved him off. "Whatever. Just do what you have to so I can get out of here."

"Not me, Sam. I made that deal with you. You let me get you out of that ravine and you wouldn't need to speak with me again." He paused. "I thought we'd made peace too but based on what you said yesterday..." He trailed off.

"Wait a second, Jamie," Al complained. "Sam was out of his mind yesterday. You said it. Hypothermia can do that."

"True," Jamie agreed. "I figure, though, that maybe it was a little more truthful down there." He nodded at the chart. "I just want to make sure your heart wasn't affected. A clean EKG will be your ticket home. I'll order the test."

"Stop it, both of you stop it please." The good mood he'd had while eating breakfast had fled Sam. "I just want to go home, that's all. Nothing that happened is anyone's fault but mine. I'm the one who put this all in motion."

"Don't, Kid. We both wanted to go up to the observatory. Who the hell would have thought you'd be dodging sheep in the snow. It's not your fault."

Jamie agreed. "You know you're not the only people we've had to rescue. Don't beat yourself up, Sam." He turned to Al. "I'll write your release although I imagine you'll stay until Sam's sprung as well."

"That's a given," Al acknowledged.

"You're both wrong." Sam spoke only loud enough for him to hear. "Can we just skip the EKG," he asked louder. "You can see from the monitor that I have no cardiac damage. I just want to get out of here."

"Would you do that, Dr. Beckett, given the circumstances?" Jamie asked, calling on Sam to think like a physician. "The monitor's good for monitoring. An EKG will make sure. Of course, you can always refuse and sign yourself out of the hospital. I can't force you to do anything you don't want to," he pointed out coldly.

"I want out," Sam repeated stubbornly. "I don't want to wait anymore."

"Ok. I'll have the nurse bring in the paperwork." Jamie turned to leave the room. Before opening the door, he turned. "I wish you all the best, Sam." Having said his goodbye, he walked out of the room.

Al watched as the doctor left the room, silent for a moment before going to the small built in closet. "I guess our clothes are in here."

"What just happened?" Sam asked in confusion as the door closed behind Jamie. "I just want to get out of here, that's all. How's everything going so bad so quick?"

Al shrugged. "I don't know." He paused, wondering what Sam might have said to the doctor while down in the ravine. "But you heard him. As soon as the paperwork's done, we can go home."

"But, why is he so angry with me? What did I do? I thought we put everything behind us." Not content to let things go as they were, Sam asked, "Can you get him, Al? I don't want things like this."

"I can try, Sam." Al went to the door and once again, as he opened the door, the nurse came in holding a small pile of paperwork. "Dr. Walters said to get you disconnected. I understand you're signing yourself out?"

It felt someone had suddenly put everything on fast forward for Sam. One moment he'd been enjoying his breakfast and now, it just seemed that everything was spinning out of control once more. "No, no," he said shaking his head. "Al, get him back. Please."

Al looked out in the hallway. Not seeing the doctor in question, he asked the nurse. What happened to Dr. Walters?"

"I'm not sure." She took a look at Sam seeing how distressed he was. She also took note of the fact that his heart rate had spiked on the monitor and decided that this patient probably shouldn't be going anywhere right now. "I'll page him."

Al noted how pale Sam had become. "Yeah. Probably a good idea." He looked at Sam. "I thought you wanted to go home?"

"I do. I just…I just…" Sam shook his head unable to adequately respond to his friend's question. "What did I say down there? Why's he angry with me…and Katie. She's angry too, right? Because I called you Dad."

"Like I said, you weren't thinking straight yesterday, Sam. I'm sure it'll all blow over."

The nurse had turned to leave but asked instead. "When I reach Dr. Walters, do you want me to let him know you're not signing yourself out today?"

"I…I…," Sam stammered.

"Tell Dr. Walters that Sam needs to speak with him," Al said coming to his friend's rescue. "You might want to hold off on those discharge papers for now, too."

The nurse shook her head slightly unable to figure out what was going through the minds of both men. "I'll let him know," she said, though not happily, as she left the room.

"What's going on here, Kid." Al rubbed Sam's shoulder trying to offer him some measure of calm and comfort. He had no idea what was really going on in his friend's mind right now. After his initial grumpiness when he'd been woken up – which was really nothing new for Sam – he just didn't like to wake up before he was ready – he'd been fine. They'd both enjoyed breakfast teasing each other and otherwise relaxed. It seemed that as soon as Jamie had come in, a switch had been flipped in Sam bringing out this unsure, irritable person instead.

"I don't know. I just feel like there's something I'm supposed to know but I don't know what it is. I really don't remember much of what happened after I fell but Jamie's acting like I said something or did something…but I don't know what it is. And I just want to go home but everyone's acting like I want to take off my leg or something." Sam looked up at Al, his eyes wide and questioning. "Isn't it normal to want to go home instead of staying in a hospital – especially if it's a holiday?"

"Yeah, it's normal." Pulling down the side rail on the bed, Al sat down so he could be on eye level with his friend instead of making him look up. He made a point to sound as reasonable as he could and that there was nothing in his voice that Sam could misconstrue as condemnation. It seemed like the kid still wasn't quite past what had brought on the flashback last night and that meant treating him with kid gloves until he was past it. He also made a mental note to call Verbena when he got back to Katie's and let her know what had gone on with Sam yesterday. "It's just that you're getting really upset about it, Sam, and it's kind of confusing the rest of us as well. Jamie just wants to make sure you're really healthy before he lets you go. I don't think he's trying to keep you here longer on purpose."

"But I don't understand why he said I said something. Don't you know what that means?" Sam pressed.

"No, Kid, I don't. I went up first and you were down there with Jamie for a while before they got you up. I don't know what you might have said but I know you were out of your mind for a while and not making sense. You tried to tell me that you were hot and tried to take your coat off. I had to practically wrestle with you to keep it on."

"Paradoxical undressing," Sam mumbled then saw the odd look on Al's face. "In extreme cold, muscles contract around the peripheral blood vessels to hold heat in the core regions of the body. When they get tired and relax, there's a rush of blood to the extremities and it can make you think you're hot."

"Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense." There was quiet in the room for a few seconds. "Like I said, Sam, I don't know what went on between you and Jamie but I know that's not all that's bothering you. You mentioned it last night when you had that flashback." Al could see the distaste on his friend's face as soon as he mentioned the events last night. "It happened, Sam. You can't change that. You just have move forward. Do you remember what you said to me last night?"

"No, not really," Sam quickly answered.

"Saaam," Al warned. "I know by the way you just answered me that you do. It's ok to feel that way. It's ok to say it. I think you've been wanting to say it for a while and that's why you got on that plane and came out here, isn't it."

Sam was prevented from answering Al's question when the door to the room opened to admit Jamie and another doctor.

"I got a page that you wanted to talk to me again," Jamie said as he approached the bed. He gestured to the other doctor. "This is Dr. Thomas Wilson. He's the orthopedist on staff who saw you yesterday."

Sam felt on the spot and uncomfortable with the arrival of the new doctor. "Uh, can I talk with you privately, please?"

"I can do that but Dr. Wilson has a limited time. Would you mind letting him examine your knee first?"

"Uh, yeah, ok," Sam quickly agreed.

Al heard the doctor asking to examine Sam. "Jamie, Give me a minute to get change and then you can show me where they keep the good coffee around here."

"I really don't need much time. I just wanted to talk with Mr. Beckett more than examine him. I won't be long."

Sam didn't say anything but the look in his eyes communicated to Al that he wanted him to stay in the room.

Initially planning to continue his ruse, Al saw Sam's face and sighed. He had wanted to talk with Jamie but the expression on his friend's face told him he'd better stay. "Ok. I guess I can get some coffee later. But I am going to get dressed."

Jamie leaned back against the cabinets by the in-room sink. He wasn't sure what Sam wanted but figured it might have something to do with the situation last night. After Sam had told him earlier that week those things had been forgiven, the words had stung.

"Like I said, there's not really much," Dr. Wilson continued. "I suspect based on the fact that you had a partial tear of the ACL already, that it's most likely a complete tear now. There's still too much swelling in the area for us to get a good look with an MRI. That's going to have to hold off a couple of days until the swelling's gone down. I understand that you're visiting from out of state so the best course of action for you right now is to make an appointment with an orthopedist when you get back home. I'm going to assume you were already seeing someone already but if you need, I can provide some recommendations."

"That won't be necessary. I've been seeing an orthopedic surgeon already. I'll make the appointment with him when I get back."

"Ok, then. Until that time, you should continue to use the brace to support the joint and you'll be on crutches as well to help with your mobility. Do you have any questions?"

"Um, not right now. Dr. Stone's been going over a lot of this with me. He's the orthopedic surgeon I've been seeing at home."

"Well, if there are no other questions, I'll leave you gentlemen alone."

"Thanks, Doc," Al said to the orthopedist. He still felt responsible for Sam's injury having been made worse.

Dr. Wilson said his goodbyes and left the room. When he did, an uncomfortable silence fell between the three men. After a few moments, Jamie pushed off where he was leaning. "You said you wanted to talk?"

"What happened? Why are you angry with me? I don't know what I did or said."

Jamie licked at his lips before speaking. "First, I know that you didn't know what you were saying, Sam. You were definitely reaching a dangerous point, temperature wise..."

Al looked at the Doctor, "Then if you knew that why...?" he started.

Jamie put his hand up. "It's like I said earlier. It was honest." He looked at Sam again. "You accused me of hating you, Sam. You even said that was the reason I stayed with you rather than going with Al."

"I don't remember any of that." Sam's frustration level began to rise again. "How can you hold something against me I don't even remember? Al said I was trying to take my coat off. Does that mean I was really hot? I keep telling everyone, I don't remember much past arguing with Al about a bottle of water and asking if he got the insurance on the rental. That's it but you're acting like I knew exactly what I was saying and doing."

"That's not what I'm saying, Sam. I know you weren't very together. It's one of the reasons I told Jim to take Al up first. You were the one that needed the most help." He looked down. "What I'm saying is, since you weren't really thinking about them, your responses were from the gut. I'm not mad at you, Sam. I really do wish the best for you." As he said the last, his head came back up. His eyes showed his words were true.

"I…this is accomplishing nothing," Sam despondently said. "You're holding something against me that I said when I wasn't in my right mind. If you want to do that, fine. I can't stop you. I'll just lie here and be the good patient like you want. But, just for the record, if you don't have a problem with me, you're doing a damned fine job of acting otherwise."

"If that's how you see it, Sam, that's how you see it." He paused. "I'd still like to run the EKG, just to make sure that you don't have any hidden surprises. I know your family has a long history of heart issues. I'd hate to miss something, but it's like I said before, it's totally up to you."

"I don't care. Do what you want to do."

Al stepped in, "It's probably not a bad idea, Sam," he stated quietly. Knowing how much stress his friend had been under over the past year worried him.

"I said I don't care." All the fight had drained out Sam. He thought, after twenty years, things had finally been resolved between Jamie and him but it seemed they hadn't and this time, he really didn't even know why. He considered apologizing but how do you apologize when you don't even know what you did wrong. All he could get was that, while out of his mind with the hypothermia, he'd said something that had gotten under Jamie's skin and had, apparently, accused the man of hating him. Now, he was being taken to task for it. He felt defeated and, at this point, honestly didn't care what anyone wanted him to do. He'd do just as he was told on the sole chance he might actually make someone happy for once. "Happy Thanksgiving," he mumbled sadly then turned away from everyone in the room, pulling the blankets up high enough to hide under them.

"Aw, Sammy," Al sighed in sympathy. He'd supported his friend's decision to make amends with Jamie Walters against his own better judgment and now look where it had gotten him. He did his best to quell his instinct to lash out himself at the man who was causing pain for his friend. He rubbed Sam's back a few times trying to figure out what he could do to make this right – at least for Sam. Right now, he could care less about how Jamie Walters was feeling. "Sammy, I'm just going to go out in the hall with Dr. Walters for a minute, ok. Will you be ok for a few minutes?"

Sam mutely nodded his head and tried to burrow deeper beneath the blankets.

Al watched for another few seconds as his friend tried to hide away from everyone. "In the hall," he hissed at Jamie and abruptly moved toward the door. "Why the hell did you lie to him," he snarled at the other man as soon as the door leading to the room had swung shut.

"I didn't," Jamie defended himself. "I didn't lie about anything that happened in that ravine and I have no idea why you think I did."

"Yes, you did. Two days ago when you accepted his apology and his forgiveness and again last night with his mother. If it didn't mean anything to you, than it was a lie."

"I'm not the one who lied about anything. Sam's the one who accused me of hating him."

Al bit back a bitter laugh. "Do you know how many times Sam's questioned me almost the same way? If I held it against him every time, do you think I'd still be here?" He looked carefully at Jamie trying, just for a brief moment, to understand where the man was coming from and it occurred to him, Jamie may have grown up with Sam but he knew nothing about who he really was. "You don't know anything about Sam, do you?"

"What do you mean don't know anything about him. If you were friends with Tom, you had to be friends with Sam. Trust me I know him."

"I didn't say you didn't know him," Al corrected. "I said you don't know anything about him. You don't know that Sam's probably the kindest, gentlest soul I've ever met but that he'll fight to the death for something or someone he believes in. You have no idea that for nearly his whole life he's looked for people to accept him for who he is and not as just an IQ. It's probably never occurred to you how many times he's felt insecure not knowing if someone wanted to be around him because they genuinely like him and considered him a friend or if it was because he's 'different' or 'unique' That's what you don't know about Sam."

Jamie blinked at the vehemence in Al's voice. He'd never considered any of what Al said. "So you're telling me Sam said that just because he didn't know?"

Al let out a breath and his posture relaxed. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. Sam's usually pretty good about hiding and overcoming those insecurities. Most people would never even guess that about him. When things are off kilter for him, though, he loses those defenses and he just needs someone to assure him that his value as person is for **who** he is, not **what** he is."

"So what are you suggesting I do? Am I just supposed to forget how I feel to make him feel better?"

Al shook his head. "No, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is, maybe you wouldn't feel that way if you understood what was motivating his words." He paused. "You said you thought Sam was being honest then. In some ways, you're right. He was saying he's afraid you didn't really forgive him. You're saying that's how you're feeling. Can you see Sam could feel the same way?"

Jamie thought about what Al was asking him trying to put himself in Sam's place. It was true that even though he'd known Sam nearly his whole life, he really didn't know him. He was Tom's little brother who always tried to follow along with his older brother. Jamie could remember many a time when he'd thought the little boy a pest but Tom was always patient with him. He never chased his brother off and always tried to make him feel welcome. Thinking about it now, Tom probably saw the same thing that Al was telling him now. "I guess I can see it. I'm still not sure what I can do."

Al let out a breath. "Just accept that what Sam said wasn't a reason to think he hasn't forgiven you." He looked at the man. "Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I guess I can." Jamie looked at the closed door. "Don't you think he's going to be kind of suspicious why you took me out here?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Al answered, "Probably but Sam's gotten used to me doing things. Doesn't necessarily like it, but he's used to it."

"Well, I guess we should probably go back in there. I would like him to stay long enough at least to get that EKG but I don't want him to feel like I'm forcing him or coercing him. I don't suppose you could maybe talk to him?"

"Yeah, I'd like him to have one as well. Just to make sure. I'll see what I can do."

Nodding, Jamie pushed open the door to the room. It looked like Sam was still trying to hide in the blankets so he hung back letting Al approach the man first.

"Sam?" Al called out to his friend, wanting to ascertain his state of mind at the moment. He was pretty sure he could figure it out, but the Kid could be mercurial. He figured he'd learn a lot by the way Sam answered.

When the Kid didn't answer, Al moved closer to him, "Hey, Kid. I know you want to get out of here sooner than later but I really think that getting the EKG isn't a bad idea. It won't take that long and then we can go back to Katie's."

Sam slowly rolled over toward Al and pushed the blanket down. "You'll feel better if I do it?"

"Yeah. I would. I just want to make sure there's nothing lurking around the corner, you know?"

"Ok. I'll do it then."

When Sam acquiesced to the EKG, James came closer to the bed glad that it had been so easy for Al. "I'll get it ordered ASAP, Sam. You should be out of here in an hour, hour and half tops. As a matter of fact, why don't you call your Mom and let her know." There was one other thing he had to take care of. Getting that water under the bridge would be a good thing. "I'm sorry I made an assumption about what you said yesterday, Sam. I don't hate you and I shouldn't have taken what you said to heart like that. It's kind of surprising you weren't telling me there were pink elephants dancing outside. I just guess it's something we both have to get used to. I don't hate you and never have." A small smile touched his face. "I still think you can be a major pest but I won't be looking for that fly swatter."

Sam stared at Jamie for just a moment then a small chuckle came out of him as he was reminded of boyhood teasing. Jamie had always said if he could just find a big enough flyswatter, he'd be able to take care of the pest that followed Tom around.

"Maybe we should find a fly swatter for Weitzman," Al said, hearing the banter and joining in.

"Who's Weitzman?" Jamie asked.

Al looked over to the doctor. "Let's just say he's a person that actually deserves a fly swatter."

"Can of Raid might be better," Sam deadpanned.

"Yeah," Al agreed. "Know where we can get one big enough?"

Jamie looked between the two men not sure of what to say but glad he wasn't Weitzman, whoever that was. "Anyways...let me get that set up so you can get back home." He started for the door.

Sam waited until the doctor was out the door. "You read him some kind of riot act, didn't you?"

"Well, not exactly a riot act..." Al started.

"Well, whatever it was, it was enough to make him come in here and change his tune." Although Sam had accepted Jamie's conciliatory words, there was still a small part deep down inside where he questioned if the man was right to have been hurt by what he'd said.

"Yeah," Al agreed. "Anyways, you heard what he said. You'll be sprung in about an hour. You want to call your Mom and let her know?"

"Yeah." Sam reached for the phone and made the call. As he hung up an orderly came into the room with a wheelchair.

"Mr. Beckett, I'm going to take you down to get an EKG."

"Your ride, Sam," Al quipped."

Hearing the orderly, Sam let out a small sigh. He'd been hoping they could do the EKG in his room but it didn't look like that was going to happen. He lay still as the orderly disconnected him from the heart monitor, transferred the IV to the IV stand attached to the wheelchair then helped him move. "I'll be back in a little while," he called over his shoulder as the orderly wheeled him out.

"I'll be here," Al called out. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV to settle back in until Sam came back. About forty-five minutes later, Sam returned.

"How'd it go?" Al asked, turning off the TV.

As the orderly helped him back in bed, he shrugged. "It went. I have to wait until it's read. Hopefully that'll be fast." He thanked the orderly and was grateful that he wasn't hooked back up to the heart monitor. Maybe that meant they hadn't seen any thing.

"Jamie promised you'd be out of here quickly. I'm sure it won't be long." He paused. "Jim called. He said he'd be here at 11:00"

Sam fingered the IV where it ran into his arm. "I wish they'd just take this out now. I hate these things."

"I'm sure they will, Kid. Just need to give them time." As he spoke, Jamie Walters walked in again.

"Good news, Sam. Nothing to worry about. You have a clean bill of health."

It wasn't until Jamie told him there was nothing amiss in the EKG that Sam realized how nervous he was about it. "Thanks for letting me know," he said in relief. He held up his left arm. "So, can you get this thing out of me?"

"Of course. I also have your discharge papers brought in at the same time." He smiled. "I hope you have a great Thanksgiving, Sam. I know your Mom's going to have a great meal for you."

"Yeah. If there's one thing I know, Thelma Beckett and her daughter really know how to cook," Al said appreciatively.

"Yeah," Sam agreed absent-mindedly. He had a feeling that Thanksgiving dinner wasn't going to be what Al and Jamie were thinking.

Al looked over to Sam and was concerned by his less than enthusiastic response. He decided that he wouldn't say anything at the moment. He didn't want to jinx the possibility of Sam getting out of the hospital and back to anyplace away from the mostly sterile abode that the kid seemed to frequent way too many times.

"There are a few things you're going to have to keep in mind," Jamie continued. "You might feel colder than usual for a while and you should avoid getting a chill. You need to give your body a chance to fully reset its thermostat."

Sam nodded in agreement. He already knew what Jamie was telling him but also knew it was his responsibility, as a doctor to inform him.

"Ok then. Are we done?" Al asked, wanting to get his friend away from the hospital and back to his sister's house.

"As soon as the nurse brings in your discharge papers and disconnects the IV from Sam, you'll be free to go. Although," Jamie continued smiling at Sam, "If I were you I'd trade that hospital gown in for something a little more fashionable."

"Save your breath, Jamie," Al quipped. "Sam wouldn't know fashionable if it hit him broadside."

Sam looked over to Al in slight aggravation. "Ha ha. I forgot you're the expert."

"Well..." Al said, preening a bit. "I do give it my best."

"I think I'll let you men figure this out for yourselves," Jamie said with a chuckle and started toward the door.

"Hey, Doc. Have a happy Thanksgiving," Al called after him. "And thanks for being there when it counted." Al knew that Jamie's presence had likely meant the best possible outcome for his friend. Even if he had raked him over the coals a bit when it seemed like it was hurting Sam.

"I'm glad I was able to help when you both needed me. I just hope next time we meet it's under better circumstances."

Al looked over to the man that was slightly older than Sam was. "Yeah. You know what they say...third time's a charm." He went over to Jamie and put his hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Seriously, though, doctor," Al stated. "I am really glad you were there to help Sam. I think maybe Sam learned about judging people's character from his brother. I'll bet that's why you and Tom were friends."

Hearing Al's words, Sam realized that he hadn't thanked Jamie for his role in their rescue. "Jamie, thank you. I should have said that already."

Jamie looked to Sam. "It's ok." He looked suddenly serious. "Sam. I didn't realize it at the time, but I'm glad I do now. I get all the hype about your 'genius' and all. I really do. Tom told me what that professor had told him before he shipped out that last time." Realizing he was going off on a tangent, Jamie brought his statement back to the point he wanted to make. "But that's not your greatest gift, as important as it might be." Jamie took a breath and then put his hand over his heart. "It's this." Somehow embarrassed about his 'speech,' he headed again toward the door. "Anyways, happy Thanksgiving." He moved so fast he was soon just history.

Jamie's words left Sam speechless. By the time he'd regained the use of his voice, the doctor was already gone. He considered asking Al to stop him again but something told him that wasn't the best choice at the moment. He'd seen the embarrassment in the man's eyes. "He sounded like he means it," was all he said out loud.

"I think so, Kid." Al said. He was glad the doctor had seen what he'd known to be true since Sam had decided to take a chance on a drunken has-been because...somehow...he'd seen something of value in lost soul. Smiling, Al then promised to get a hold of the release papers.

"What are you going to do, print them up yourself?"

"No. I'm going to check with the nurse,"

"I know you're trying to help, Al but you gotta give them a chance to get things together...unless you're trying to get away from me?" Sam asked jokingly.

"I know. I just don't want them putting your release papers on the back burner."

"I'm sure they're not going to and it's just not my release papers," Sam pointed out. "They've got to get yours too. Now, please, sit down and wait." As an afterthought Sam added, "Or at least get me my clothes - not that I can get dressed just yet."

"Ok. Ok," Al agreed, "Geez." He'd started to sit back on his bed. At Sam's second request, he jumped up again. "Sure."

Sam saw the agitation cross Al's face at his request to wait followed by his friend jumping up to fulfill his request. "Al? What's going on with you all of a sudden? Since Jamie said we were getting released you've been...I don't know. It's like you're worried if you say or do the wrong thing I'm going to fall apart or something. You're worrying me."

"Huh?" Al asked, having opened the small closet. "It's not that. It's just that now that I know you're going to be ok...well, except for the leg, I mean...I want to get out of here. A hospital room isn't the place to spend Thanksgiving."

"Oh, ok," Sam agreed although he didn't completely accept his friend's answer. He had a feeling there was more behind the way Al was acting. He caught his lower lip between his teeth trying to decide if he should push or not. He decided it would be best to just get past whatever was going on now. From experience, he knew that if he didn't it was just likely to flare up later. "Are...um...are you sure you're just not sure if I'm going to have a...um...episode again so that's why you're acting kind of funny?"

Al pulled Sam's stuff out of the closet. The clothes had mostly dried but they were rather muddy. He sighed as he brought them over to Sam, knowing it was the fall that had left them in that condition. "I'm not really worried about an episode, Sam. The stuff last night was...well...it makes sense. I just think that getting you back home will be the best medicine. You always seem to handle things better when you're around your family."

"It doesn't make sense." Sam's attitude had made as sudden a turn as he'd said Al's were. "How can something like that make sense?"

"Sam...Harry was a horrid human being. I don't know why that was and I don't really care. All I care about is that he's had you getting yourself all worked up and feeling like you've done something wrong because you hate him." He looked at his friend and then put the clothes down on the chair and sat beside him. "You probably don't remember, Sam, but last night wasn't the first time you realized that he'd pulled that particular emotion out of you, Kid."

Sam was going to ask Al to clarify just what emotion he was talking about but a nurse came into the room then. She had papers in her hand that she put down on the tray table by Sam's bed. "Let me just take out that IV and you can sign your discharge papers and you'll be all set to go."

"Oh. Good," Al said, moving away from the bed to give the nurse room to maneuver. He paused, "You have my papers too, right?"

"Yes, I do. Just let me finish with this."

"Yeah. Of course. Not a problem." He moved back over to his side of the room, not wanting to interfere with her work getting Sam unhooked.

The nurse finished removing the IV, taping some gauze over the area. Once that was done, she went over both Al's and Sam's discharge instructions with them then had them each sign a copy. "You're all set to leave, gentlemen." As the nurse spoke, the door opened and Jim came in. "Anyone need a ride?"

"Impeccable timing," Al commented.

"Yeah. Just lucky I guess." He looked over to the nurse. "Will they need to be wheeled out?"

The nurse looked to the two men, noting the brace on Sam's leg. "I think it might be easier on Mr. Beckett, but I think Mr. Calavicci should be fine."

Sam sighed, not in the mood to counter the nurse. He'd have preferred leaving under his own power but he had a feeling he'd get voted down if he suggested that.

Jim nodded. "Ok." He held up a couple of bags. One had Al's name on it and the other Sam's. "Mom told me to bring these in case you want to wear something fresh." Al took both bags. "I'm going down to get the car. See you there in about 10 or 15 minutes."

Al smiled. "Ok Jim. We'll be there." Once Jim and the nurse left, Al turned to Sam. "You're Mom's nothing but practical." He pulled out a set of sweats from Sam's bag along with socks and underwear. "You need any help?"

"Um...probably some. I can't bend my knee with this thing on so that means I can't get anything on below knees." They'd been through this particular scenario before so many times now that it no longer embarrassed Sam. He eyed the cast on Al's right arm. "Although, you might not be able to tie my laces very well."

"Well, since you'll be riding, you don't really need them tied all the way. Jim can get them before you go in the house," Al offered, coming over and helping Sam to get rid of the hospital attire and into the clothes to go home.

Within a few minutes, Sam was dressed. Although Al's clothes from the night before had been in better shape than Sam, he took the time to change into the cleaner clothes Thelma had sent to him. The dirty clothes he put into one of the bags. He was just walking out of the bathroom when the nurse came in.

"Here's your ride, Mr. Beckett," the nurse said returning to the room with a wheelchair.

"Ok, Kid. Let's get this show on the road," Al said, helping Sam to the wheelchair. He carried the crutches and bag while the nurse pushed the transportation. Looking back at the room, he shook his head. "Ok. No more hospitals this year, Sam."

"How about none next year, too?" Sam asked looking back over his shoulder.

"Yeah. I think that's a good plan. We'll work on that," Al responded as the three entered the elevator that would take them to the first floor and their ride home.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

As the car pulled up to Jim and Katie's house, Al looked at the porch. There was a country style wooden sign that had been hung. "Bonnic's House" was painted in decorative stenciled letters. "That's new," the older man commented.

"No. It's not. Katie put that up about three months ago," Jim answered as he stopped the car by the walkway to the door.

"Really," Al answered. "I guess I hadn't noticed it before."

"From what Mom tells me, this hasn't been a vacation for either of you this trip. I hope that the rest of the visit will be more relaxing."

"Me too," Sam agreed as he roused himself in the backseat of the car. He'd started to drift off on the ride from the hospital.

"Ah, back to the living, eh, Sam?" Jim commented as he heard his brother-in-law speak. The ride had been mostly quiet.

Al got out and went to the door to help Sam to his crutches. "Here you go, Kid. We'll get you inside and you can put your leg up in there."

"You're still not supposed to lift or do anything strenuous," Sam reminded when Al tried to help him out of the car. "Jim, can you help me?"

"Yeah, sure." Jim got out to help Al with Sam.

"Thanks." Sam swayed for just second as he gained his balance on the crutches. He shrugged off Al's supportive hand. "I'm ok. I can do it." Slowly he made his way up the walk and to the stairs.

Al spotted Sam, staying close enough in case his friend fell, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Sam reached the top step. As Sam reached the door, Al moved forward to open it.

Jim brought up the rear bringing in the bags and such.

When they got in the house, two things struck Sam right off. Rather, the absence of two things struck him. There was no noise coming from the kitchen and there was no aroma of dinner cooking. It was nearly noon. He knew that by now his mother and Katie should have dinner well under way.

As soon as the door opened and her son walked in, Thelma Beckett jumped up from where she'd been sitting on the couch. "Welcome home, Sam."

Sam accepted the kiss his mother placed on his cheek but looked around in confusion. "Isn't today Thanksgiving?" he finally asked.

Katie was walking up the hallway holding the baby. "Sam's here?" she asked seeing her mother moving.

"Of course it is," Thelma answered. "We just didn't how things would work out today."

"Oh," Sam said in a small voice, his head hanging down. "I'm sorry I ruined dinner."

"Oh, no, Sam," Thelma said concerned at her son's reaction. "We'll just do it tomorrow. Everything's ready. It's not like we'll miss Thanksgiving."

Sam nodded but he still felt as if he'd made a mess of the holiday. "I'm tired," he told his mother in the same soft voice. "Can I lie down?"

"Yes...of course, Sam." She picked up the magazine she'd been looking at. "Would you like to lie down here or in your room?"

Al and Jim moved into the room as well. Jim went over and took Sarah from Katie. Al just stayed planted waiting to hear what Sam decided.

Shrugging as best as he could with the crutches, Sam indicated that he had no real preference in the matter. Truthfully, it wasn't that he was tired. He just needed some time to himself where he could regroup. He'd been expecting that when they got to the house Thanksgiving preparations would be in full swing. Finding out they weren't threw him off-kilter. He knew that if it hadn't been for his unexpected arrival and events he set in motion like dominos falling, his mother, Katie, and Jim would be enjoying their holiday dinner instead of having to postpone it.

Al seeing Sam's demeanor spoke up. "Maybe in the other room, Kid?"

"Um...yeah...ok." Moving slowly, Sam went to the guestroom, Al coming along to provide any assistance he might need. He looked indecisively between the bed in the room and the roll away he'd been using then moved over to the roll away and lowered himself to sit on it.

"You'd be more comfortable on the bed, Sam." Al pointed out.

Thelma followed the two men into the room. The way Sam was acting had her worried. He'd frightened her last night when he'd had that episode and now he just looked so fragile. "Sammy?" she questioned sitting beside him. She began to rub up and down his back. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mom. I'm just tired." Sam forced a smile to alleviate his mother's worry. "Really."

Katie had followed her mother into the room. "You should just take it easy then, Sam."

Thelma wanted to push. She felt this wasn't a case of her son being tired but she also knew sometimes it didn't help to push. She leaned over, kissing him on the forehead. "Ok, Sweetheart. I'll let you rest. Listen to, Al, though. The bed's going to much more comfortable for you." She rose from the roll away and moved toward the door taking Katie with her. "I'll check in on you in a little while." She looked at Al, asking him with her eyes to keep an eye on her son.

Katie gave Al a small narrow look. She didn't like that her mother was acquiescing to Al, especially after what her brother had said the night before. "Listen to Al. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea." Before anyone could say anything, she turned and left the room.

Al blinked. "Um...hmm." He didn't know what to say. He swallowed down his confusion and turned back to Sam. "You need help moving, Kid?"

Sam shook his head and, instead of moving to the bed, leaned over to lay down where he was. "I don't have to move."

"Sam...don't you want to be comfortable? The roll-away's ok in a pinch, but it's not what you need now."

"I said this is fine and I'm not moving," Sam snapped. "And you don't need to sit in here and watch me."

A bit taken aback by Sam's sudden attitude, Al stepped back slightly. He was definitely feeling that something had shifted. "Ok, Sam. Sorry I was concerned. If you want to sleep on the roll away, that's your right. I still think it'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable in the bed, but ...ok."

Sam sat back up then stood up so he could pull the blankets back on the roll away before sitting down on it again. "That's where you're sleeping," he said sullenly.

"Why?" Al questioned, confused with the direction Sam's emotions had taken a sudden nosedive into.

"Why what?"

"You're the one that's really been through the wringer. I got why you made me take the bed right after I got out of surgery, but now...you're the one that needs it, not me. So, why won't you allow yourself to be comfortable?"

"Because." Sam knew it wasn't an answer but it was all he had. He lay back down and pulled up the blankets.

"Ok, Sam. I don't get it but if that's what you want...ok. You get some sleep. I know you're tired. You kept nodding off in the car."

Sam rolled over to face the wall the roll away was pushed up against. "I really wanted to have dinner," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to ruin it."

Al, planning to leave Sam to his nap, stopped. He wasn't sure what the Kid had said completely but it sounded like it was likely important. "Huh? What did you say, Sam? I didn't quite catch it."

"Nothing. Just...just leave me alone."

Al took a breath. Sam was definitely depressed about something but he obviously didn't want to talk about it right now either. As many times as he was accused of hovering, he also knew when to back off. This looked like one of those times. "Ok. Like I said. Get some sleep. Things are likely to look better on the other side of a good rest."

The only response Sam gave to Al was a wordless grunt. He listened until he heard his friend's footsteps and then the door closing He pushed the blanket from over his head where he'd pulled them. He wasn't as tired as he'd led everyone to believe. He just needed some time by himself so he could think. Rather, so he could have time by himself to stop thinking and push the thoughts he didn't want to have behind a door and lock them away.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Al walked out of the room and closed the door. He sighed as he went toward the living room. Walking in, he saw Katie and Thelma talking. Jim was feeding the baby while watching one of the many games that were on the TV. Al, feeling somewhat off-balance by all the shifting moods, spoke up. "I'm going out on the beach for a cigar. Sam's asleep or soon will be. I'll be back later."

"Wait, Al," Thelma called after him. She got up from the couch following Al. "I want to know what's going on with Sam. What happened last night and what's happening right now? I know he's not in that room just because he's tired."

Al had taken one of his cigars out of his pocket. He looked down at it now, speaking more to it than to Thelma directly. He knew what he'd see in her eyes and was having a hard enough time dealing with his feelings about everything that was still affecting Sam. "It's what I said last night. Sam's having PTSD. He has been for awhile. I think it's all still playing into the way he's thinking." Al finally looked up. "Sam seems to feel safer sometimes when I'm around. That feeling triggers how he felt around his Dad...and...well...sometimes, when he's not firing on all cylinders, he has a slip of the tongue. That's all he meant last night."

Al's explanation confirmed part of what Thelma had suspected but she felt there was more that the man was leaving out. "I'd figured as much. I didn't think Sam had started thinking you were his father. You're not telling me everything right now, though. That's not why Sam's hiding in the bedroom right now." She saw the look on Al's face and correctly interpreted it. "Don't be so surprised. You may be the one who spends more time with Sam of late but I know my son very well. I know when he's genuinely tired and when he's using it as an excuse to hide away. Right now, all he's missing is his bear to whisper all of his hurts to. Although, I suspect there are many times you fill that role for him when he lets you."

"He seemed tired to me - almost fell asleep in the car on the drive back - but once he came in the house, he seemed more depressed. Right now he doesn't want to talk. He just wants to be left alone. I figure this isn't the time to push him." Al licked at his lips. "I guess Katie's not too thrilled with Sam's slip though. She probably thinks I'm encouraging it. I'm not but at the same time I understand why it happens."

"Katie understands just fine," the woman in question said startling both of the others. She'd come up behind her mother and neither Al nor Thelma had noticed. "What I understand is that for some reason I can't figure out my brother's become dependant on you. Don't get me wrong, Al. I'm grateful for all the help you've given Sam and that you've been there for him when we couldn't but I want to know why Sam's acting the way he is."

Al took time to consider what he was going to say. When Katie started to speak again obviously thinking he wasn't going to answer her, he put his hand up. "Since last Christmas, there's been very little time that Sam's been on an even keel. I know that's not a good explanation, but I'm also not going to paint everything in detail. Sam wouldn't appreciate that at all and I won't hurt him that way. All I can say is that he's been physically and mentally brutalized this past year both by random chance and by people that shouldn't be able to hurt him but did." He looked over to Thelma. "I don't think Donna's letter would have hurt him nearly as much if he hadn't been reeling from his run-ins with the two psychos."

"So are you telling us we're supposed to just...what...sit back and do nothing?" Katie demanded.

Thelma put her hand on her daughter's arm to calm her but she also wanted to know the same thing. "I can't just sit back and not do anything. He's my son."

"I'm not asking you to sit back and do nothing. Right now, I think what Sam wants and needs it a safe haven. Someplace where he can regain his bearings, you know? I think that's why he came here. He's always found strength from his family."

"Then why is he pushing away? Why is he hiding in the bedroom and why won't he tell me what's wrong?" Thelma was almost desperate in her questions trying to find the way to reach out to her son and help him. She held up a hand to stop Al before he could answer. "I'm not saying you're responsible for this. I just don't understand."

Putting his hand to the back of his neck, Al looked disturbed. "I know. I'm not sure either." He knew Sam hadn't quite been himself but he hadn't really taken a nosedive until they'd come into the house. He suddenly realized what Sam had mumbled right before he left the room or at least one of them. "Dinner," he said to himself and then looked at Thelma. I'm not sure, but I think maybe he's upset about Thanksgiving. I think he was expecting it to be more...um...normal.

"Oh dear," Thelma sighed in dismay. "We just...we didn't know when they'd let you go home."

"We thought it would be easier for everyone if we just had Thanksgiving tomorrow," Katie added. "No one meant to hurt anyone."

"It makes sense," Al agreed. "It's just like I said. Family means a lot to Sam and holidays are part of that. With all the stuff that's been happening, I think it just meant more to him today then it normally does."

"It's too late to do anything now." Thelma pulled in a breath and blew it out slowly. "Maybe I should go in and sit with him - explain to him why we decided to delay a day."

"That sounds like a good idea." He looked down at his cigar. "I'm still going to go outside for this, but instead of going on the beach, I'll just go out on the deck...just in case."

Thelma nodded and started to walk away. When she did, she noticed Al seemed to pale just a little and sway. She grabbed his arm to support him remembering it hadn't quite been a week since the man had had surgery. Somehow, they all seemed to have forgotten that. "I don't think that's a good idea. I think you should lie down and get some rest like Sam is."

"But..." Al started. He'd really wanted the cigar but seeing the look on Thelma's face he figured he could put it off a little. Besides, he did feel 'off.' "Ok. I'll just watch the game with Jim."

"No," Thelma said sternly "You're going to go back to that bedroom and lie down for a while and rest."

Al looked thoughtful. "It might be better if you speak to him alone. If I was there and lying down, he'll wonder why and it'll just give him something to focus on instead."

"Sam will understand and I'm not going to argue with you, Albert." Thelma used the same tone of voice she'd use with her children. "Besides, don't you think Sam's worrying about you?"

"Not at the moment. Right now, I think he's probably wrapped around this holiday thing and you're the best person to sooth his feelings over that. But, if you insist, I'll go lie down, even though I still don't think it's the best way to address his funk."

"I do insist and I think I know my son a little better than you're giving me credit for." Seeing that Katie was about to jump in and probably bring up the previous evening again, Thelma felt it best to stop that from happening. "Not now, Katie."

Al sighed. "Fine. I'm right behind you." He wondered what Katie was going to say and worried that regardless of what he'd said, she was still concerned with the situation. Thelma was right, though. That could wait.

Thelma slipped quietly into the bedroom just in case Sam had fallen asleep. As she approached the bed and stood by it, she wasn't surprised to see that he awake. "Sam, Honey, can we talk for a minute?"

Sam rolled over so the could see his mother and nodded. He noticed Al had also come in the room and was sitting on the bed. "What's the matter, Mom?"

Al's concern had been based on opinion of what was bothering Sam. She decided to give him a chance to tell her rather than assume. She sat on the end of the bed and took his hand. "When you came in today, there was a change in your demeanor. I know you said you were tired, but the fact you're still awake belies that. What's bothering you Sam?"

"I just feel like I've ruined Thanksgiving for everyone. If I hadn't come out to Hawaii, you and Katie and Jim would be having dinner. I should have just stayed home."

Thelma put her hand up and brushed the hair out of his face with a gentle movement. "No, Sam. We're happy you're here. It's going to make Thanksgiving extra special. After all, this is Sarah's first and having her uncle here is wonderful. Besides, anytime I can spend time with you is a joy to me."

"But I thought you said we weren't having Thanksgiving because Al and I were in the hospital. There's no food and it's too late start."

"That's because we're not having Thanksgiving dinner today. We're going to have it tomorrow so we can all enjoy the whole day together."

"But...tomorrow's Friday. It's not Thanksgiving." As he heard the words leave his mouth, Sam realized he was putting more emphasis on the actual day than its meaning. Whether they celebrated today or tomorrow, it was still Thanksgiving and it was still time with his family and that's what really counted. "I'm making a big deal out of nothing, aren't I? I just thought...I guess I misunderstood what you said."

Al had repositioned himself so that he was lying down on the bed but sitting up with his back against the pillow, quietly staying out of the conversation between Sam and his mother. He knew there was no way he could avoid hearing and now he smiled lightly as he heard Sam make the connection. He had to admit, Thelma's way with her son was a beautiful thing to witness.

Thelma squeezed Sam's hand. "With you showing up like you did this week, I guess Katie and I should have realized how much the day would mean. But yes, it's not a huge change. We'll all still be together."

"You didn't know I'd be here, Mom, or that everything would happen like it did."

"No, but based on what I did know..." she started and then decided that bringing up the night before needed to be done. "I don't know everything that happened to you, honey, but I know that what you went through shouldn't have happened to anyone. Seeing someone killed like that and then having to fear for your own life...well..." A tear slipped from her eye and she brushed it away. "With what you told us, we should have known," she finished.

As soon as his mother mentioned the previous night, Sam's eyes shuttered. He didn't want to think about, talk about, or acknowledge what happened in any way. "Forget it, Mom," he said tightly. "Just forget about it."

Thelma's heart reached out to him. "Oh, Sam. That's exactly what I mean. It happened. You can't just forget about it any more than I can now that I know. But you have to find someway to live with that memory so that it doesn't hurt you anymore."

"So everyone keeps telling me." Sam drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Mom, I just don't want to talk about this - not now."

"Ok, honey. Not now." She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "When you're ready, Sam." She gave him a light smile. "Now, you really should try to get some rest." She turned around to the bed, "and you too, Admiral. I want both of you to take care of yourselves."

"Sure, Mom." As Thelma got up from the side of the roll away, Sam grasped her wrist. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you forever and a day, sweetheart."

After Thelma had left the room, Sam looked over to where Al was on the bed. "What are you doing in here, Al?" he asked curiously.

"You heard your mother. She wanted me to rest and wouldn't take no for an answer." He smiled. "She's quite a woman."

"She sent you to your room?" Sam queried with a hint of amusement. The thought of Thelma mothering Al was enough to break through his depressed mood.

"Yeah." Al said thinking. A moment later he told Sam, "I think it may have been the first time it's ever happened."

"Well, you know what they say, there's a first time for everything." Sam sat up and leaned against the wall. "I'm not really tired," he confessed to his friend. "I just needed to be alone for a little while." He got up and limped over to the nightstand by the bed and pulled the drawer open. He pushed the contents around and found a deck of cards. Holding them up, he asked, "Wanna play something or did you want to get some sleep?"

"What I really wanted was to have a cigar," Al said with a sigh. Letting out a breath, he shrugged. "Cards sound good though."

"Well, slide over." One Al had made room on the bed; Sam sat down facing his friend. "If I were you, I wouldn't plan on having too many of those while we're here. If you think I'm bad, Mom's going to be a whole lot worse." He pulled the elastic off the cards and started to shuffle them. "So, what'll it be?"

"Gin," Al replied. "She's never given me too hard a time before."

"That's 'cause you were on your turf - or mine." Sam finished shuffling the cards and dealt them out. "You're on her home turf now. Trust me; she can be worse than me."

Al picked up his cards and arranged them. "What about those other times we've been here? Last year when we..." Al started and stopped. The Kid had dealt with enough this year without being reminded of the things that had happened before.

Sam caught Al's self-censoring but ignored it. "I'm just telling you," he said knowingly as he arranged his cards. "If you want to test it, not much I can do about it."

Al narrowed his eyes at Sam. "You trying to get me to not even try?"

"I'm not doing anything. I'm just telling you." Seeing the disbelief in his friend's face, Sam put his cards down. "Look, you weren't there when she caught me sneaking Dad's cigarettes. Let's just say, I'm speaking from experience."

"What'd she do?" Al asked curiously wondering what Thelma Beckett could have done to convince her son not to touch cigarettes again.

"Said she was disappointed in me and that she didn't know when she'd be able to trust me again."

Knowing Sam, Al could understand why that would have an effect on him where it might not have had much effect on someone else. "Yeah, but you're her son. Mothers like her, they do things like that."

"She thinks of you as family too and if she thinks you're doing something that's not in your best interest, she's going to let you know." When Al continued to look at him disbelievingly, Sam picked up his cards again. "You're in here in bed, aren't you?"

He took the card off the deck and continued, "Yeah, but that's different. I sort of was unste..." He stopped in mid-sentence, putting a card down in the discard pile. "Um...you're turn."

Sam eyed Al, the game temporarily forgotten. "You were what?" When an answer didn't come right away, he prompted, "Al, tell me now. You were what?"

"Nothing. Your turn," the older man tried.

"Don't 'nothing' me. I want to know what you're not telling me." Sam saw continued reluctance on Al's face and pressed him more. "You realize if you don't tell me, I'm just going to keep asking, keep imagining all sorts of stuff and worrying. You don't want me to do that, do you?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's blackmail, you know."

Sam pretended to think about the accusation for just a second. "Yeah, it probably is. So, do you want to me to worry?" he asked once more.

"Well...no," Al said caving. He rallied once more. "But it really wasn't anything, Sam. I was just a little dizzy, that's all. You know, having a short dizzy spell doesn't necessarily **mean** anything."

"You were dizzy?" Sam asked slowly. "And you weren't going to tell me this why? Geez, Al. Are you going to tell me you forgot you had surgery because of a bleeding ulcer less than a week ago?" He continued on, mostly talking to himself. "This is my fault anyway. What was I thinking having you go out that soon after surgery? I should know better." He scooped the cards up, leaning over to pluck those that Al was holding. "I'm not even going to suggest calling the hospital 'cause you'll just argue with me but you are going to rest. I bet you didn't get any last night."

"Saamm...." Al said as he watched Sam picking up the cards. "You're over reacting. I was just a little dizzy." Seeing Sam's eyes narrow, he continued. "Ok. I know I had an ulcer. I've had one for years, apparently and if I felt like there was anything related to that, I would have said something, but this didn't feel like that." He let out a breath. "And I slept ok. Not great but you know I don't like sleeping in a hospital bed."

"Well, then you should get some sleep now." Sam put down the cards and looked at his friend intently. "Don't you understand? I need you to be ok." He looked down, picking up the cards and idly shuffling them. "Lately, there are times I think you're the one who's keeping me sane."

Al sighed, knowing that he was about to take a nap whether he wanted one or not. Hearing Sam final words, he put his hand out and grabbed him on his upper arm. "You know, your mother's right. You've got to find a way to stop letting this eat at you. Otherwise it's going to drive you batty."

"Damn it," Sam exclaimed. He slammed the cards on the nightstand and got up abruptly so he was standing over his friend. "I'm being serious. Why do you turn everything into a joke? If you don't want to believe that's how I feel, fine. Don't. Stop telling me I'm crazy, though." He limped back over to the roll away and threw himself on it. He'd thought he and Al would be able to have some relaxed and enjoyable time playing cards but it didn't look like that's what was going to happen.

"I get you're serious, Kid. It wasn't a joke. I need you ok as much as you need me to be ok." He paused. "And I know you're not crazy..." His eyes turned sad, "...but you will be if this keeps being a thorn in your side."

"There you go again. How do you think it makes me feel if everyone around me keeps telling me I have to act a certain way or stop thinking a certain thing because if I don't, it means either I'm going to go crazy or I already am?"

"I think it scares the hell out of you knowing they could be right."

Sam swallowed dryly but said nothing right off. "That and maybe I already am," he finally admitted in a soft voice. "It's like every time I hear it; it's just validating what I'm already thinking. Why do you have to keep saying it? I can't change how I'm feeling? It's not like I put on one blue sock and one black sock and I can just go change one of them because you told me to."

"That's true," Al said simply. He paused. He understood that one way to keep the memory from continuing to haunt Sam was take away its power. Hesitantly he suggested, "Maybe you should think about forgiving Harry, Sam."

"What?" Sam asked in disbelief. "You keep saying I'm gonna go crazy but I think you're already there." He got up again and grabbed the crutches where they leaned against the wall. "I'm going for a walk on the beach. Maybe you need to take a nap so you can start thinking straight."

"It's not as crazy as you think, Kid," his friend responded. "If you forgive..." he started before Sam stopped him.

"Not now. I said wanted to go for a walk and I don't need you following me this time." Sam pulled open the door and walked out of the bedroom. "Not now," he said shortly when his mother started to approach him. He went out to the deck and down the few steps to the sand. He knew it would be next to impossible to use the crutches on the sand and abandoned them at the bottom step. The brace would give his knee the support it needed and right now, he really didn't care about it.

He made his slow, limping way across the sand. Considering it was Thanksgiving, there were still a number of people on the beach. He didn't get very far before his knee was causing too much pain to keep walking. He dropped down to the sand and stared out at the ocean. He did his best to clear his mind and just not think about anything.

In the distance, he could hear someone's radio playing.

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Al laid back and kicked himself mentally. What he'd told Sam was true but that didn't mean the Kid was ready to hear it.

When Al had returned from Vietnam, he had a lot to remember and a good deal of it was pure, unadulterated hell. When he was first repatriated they had just started to use the term Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Al had been old school, though, and he thought admitting to such a thing was equivalent to being a whiner, not willing to face up to what happened like a man.

He'd pushed away the shrinks and had even stopped going to the veterans meetings because he felt that it wasn't the way to deal with the nightmares he faced on a regular basis. He tried to push the thoughts aside but in the quiet of the night, they had come to him, taunting him with the evil he'd faced. It was the main reason his drinking had gotten out of hand.

He sighed. If Sam hadn't come along when he did, it was likely that the life he would be living wouldn't be anywhere close to what it was. Rather, he'd likely be living under a bridge somewhere like so many of the others who continued to push the label and the help that came with it away, thinking that was the way to show their machismo. Al still didn't like shrinks. His mental process paused at that and he admitted that as shrinks went, Verbena really wasn't that bad...but overall he still didn't like the profession. He assumed there were others like Bena, but in his experience, they were few and far between.

Now, he wasn't sure what he should do. Sam was obviously in pain and had been for quite awhile. It was understandable, of course. Harry had come along at a time when his best friend was still reeling from other stresses and he just cemented everything in the Kid's mind. And then there was the letter from Donna…

He was continuing along this line of thought when he heard a knock on the door. Jumping up he went to answer it, hoping it was Sam. When he opened the door, though, it was another Beckett. "Oh, it's you, Thelma," he said with sadness in his voice.

"What happened?" Thelma demanded. "Sam seemed fine when I left and now he just stormed out of the house. He wouldn't talk to any of us. Did something happen? Did you say something to him?"

Al took a breath. "Sam and I got into a conversation about what's been going on. I suggested something to him that he wasn't ready to hear. I should have known but I said it anyways."

"So," she prompted impatiently. "You just sit in here, then? Is that your solution? I frankly don't care what you said to him or why but if you're the one who set him off, you had damned well better make it better with him, now." Thelma has reached the end of her patience. She was watching her son fall apart and there was nothing she could do and it seemed that the man in front of her always seemed to be at the root of the problem. She was done waiting patiently for them to work it out. Right now, she only cared for her son's wellbeing and if it meant browbeating his friend to make him do the right thing by Sam, that's exactly what she was going to do.

"He told me not to follow him, Thelma," he explained. "I...I don't know what to do. I've seen what Sam is experiencing destroy others before but I don't know how to help him see that truth." He swallowed tightly trying to stem the tears that were forming in in eyes. "I've tried, you've got to trust me, I've tried but no matter what I do, it seems to be the wrong thing." He turned and walked to the window. "When I shot that bastard that was trying to kill him, somehow that broke something between us." He punched his left hand with his right fist. "But...damn it...I couldn't just let him finish the job he'd started. When I saw the blood on his neck, I just did what I had to to save him. I had to. I had to..."

Thelma drew a deep breath when she heard how close Sam had come to losing his life but she quickly quelled it. Right now, Sam was her priority and reacting to what she'd heard wasn't going to help him. "If you think something's broken, you need to fix it." She paused for just a moment to try to find the way to help both her son and his friend. "Al, he may have said not to follow him but I think that's exactly what you need to do. I saw something last night. When he had that…that…episode and called you Daddy, I saw something in his eyes I haven't seen it since John passed away. He trusts you. He trusts you the same way he trusted his father. I won't lie to you and tell you it didn't hurt to hear him call you that but…I need to think of Sam first." She reached out and grasped Al's forearm to make sure he understood how serious she was. "You need to have faith in that trust. Somehow, you knew just what to do last night to help him when Katie and I didn't. Use that instinct or whatever it is." She took a shuddering breath. As she let it out, tears came to her eyes. "Help my son. Bring him back to us."

Al turned to her. "What if what I do hurts him worse? He's my best friend, Thelma." He paused. "No, that's not all. I want you to know that I know that Sam's father will always hold a sacred place in his heart as it should and I would never try to usurp that...but..." He paused again and then pushed out the rest. "...but I care about him...like he was my own flesh and blood..." He looked into her eyes, wanting to find the answer to his fear. "What if I don't do this right and I hurt him more? What then?"

A glint of humor touched Thelma's face and smile flitted across her lips. "Welcome to parenthood, Admiral Calavicci. If you don't think those same thoughts went through my mind and John's at least a thousand times when the children were young...and even now...you're mistaken." She slackened her hold on Al but still kept her hand on his arm. "I know you don't mean to take John's place and I don't think you are." She looked down and away briefly then back to his eyes. "Frankly, it makes me feel better knowing there's someone who cares for him that much. Just trust yourself, Al, and trust Sam. You'll know what to do."

Hearing her faith in him, Al's heart felt more at peace. He still had a fear deep within him that things could still go wrong, but hearing Thelma words gave him strength to push the fear aside. The corners of his lip pulled upwards. "He's a great Kid, Thelma. If I'd been blessed to have children, having one like Sam would be like hitting the jackpot." He quickly added, "Not that your other children weren't...aren't..." Realizing he was digging himself deeper, he just shrugged. "You know what I mean." He licked his lips slightly. "I'll go after him. I don't know what I'll say but I'll do what I can to help him get out of this. I promise I'll do everything I can and that's a promise you can take to the bank."

"I know you'll do your best." Thelma stepped back out of the door. "Now, go on."

Giving her a final nod coupled with a determined grin, he started through the door, stopping when he reached the other side. He had a slightly sheepish look on his face as he asked her, "You...um...don't know which direction he went, do you?"

"No, I don't but I don't think it should be hard to find him on the beach."

"Ok, thanks." Al moved out into the hallway and went out onto the deck facing the beach. He looked in both directions trying to decide which direction Sam would go in and finally decided to the left. Why he chose that direction, he wasn't sure but it felt like the way to go. He went down the steps and moved quickly up the beach, somewhat surprised at the number of people that had chosen the beach rather than home on the holiday. He hadn't gone far when he saw his buddy sitting on the sand.

He moved quickly to him, still not sure what to say but knowing he'd do what was needed. Sam had done what he could to help him and once again, Al was ready to return that in spades.

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Sam sat looking out to the ocean wondering how he ended up where he was. Life had taken some interesting, and at times unwelcome, turns over the last several years.

To anyone walking by, he gave the appearance of calm but inside, his emotions were a churning maelstrom. Al was right; there were many times that he did fear for his own sanity. He longed to be able to just take charge, set everything to order, and not have that worry but he knew it wasn't that simple.

From the radio in the distance, he could hear a familiar song playing. Although it didn't really have much to do with the situation he was in, there was one word repeated over and over – forgiveness. Al had suggested that maybe it was time he forgave Harry for what he'd done and he wondered if, maybe, his friend was right. Maybe it was time to let go of the hatred. Maybe if he did that, Harry would stop being a monster in his memories and would just become a man. Maybe his words would stop echoing in his head.

When a shadow blocked the sun he looked up, instinctively knowing who he'd see. "Thought I told you not to follow me?" There was no animosity in the question. In fact, deep down he welcomed his friend's presence.

"You did," Al answered. "I decided not to listen." He nodded to the ocean. "Nice view, you mind if I share it with you?"

"It's a big beach." Sam tried for casual and hope he achieved it. "There's plenty of room for both of us."

"It might be a big beach, but I want the spot right here." He dropped down beside Sam but kept his eyes out on the ocean. He was going with his gut right now. Both Bena and Thelma had basically told him that was the way to go. Right now, his gut was telling him to give Sam the lead.

"Suit yourself." Sam picked up a handful of sand and let it sift through his fingers. Like his friend, he now kept his eyes on the ocean.

Al continued to look out at the ocean. He began to simply speak his own thoughts. "I'm worried, Sam. I want to help you anyway I can, but I'm not sure I know how to right now. I need to know where your thoughts are. Think you can help me with that?"

"I wish I could, Al but right now, I'm not too sure." Sam slanted a quick sideways look at his friend then back out to the ocean. "You were right you know. It does scare me."

Al nodded. "Yeah. Scared me too." He shifted his weight a bit. The Kid had asked him quite a few times about what had happened in 'Nam. He still wasn't willing to go there but with the way things were going, he decided maybe talking a little about what had happened when he'd been repatriated would help. "When I got back from 'Nam, I was a mess. They sent me to Bethesda and I spent a good part of the year there. All the stuff I'd survived just kept replaying in my head." He continued to keep his eyes on the horizon. "They told me I had to talk to someone about it but I thought that was weak. Instead, I learned what answers they wanted to hear and eventually, they figured that I'd gotten over all of it. But I hadn't. I just found a way to push it inside and did my best to keep it under lock and key but it didn't work. I found ways to keep from dealing with it, including my old friend Johnny Walker, but it didn't help. Not really. Nothing really changed until I met you."

"So you know talking about something isn't the answer," Sam pointed out reasonably. "You never talked about any of what happened in Vietnam with me. You should understand why I don't want to talk about it." He stopped looking at the ocean and pivoted to face the other man. "It's just worse when I do. I know I can't forget about or change what happened but what am I gaining by talking about it? I'm fine until the memories come. Why should I make them come?"

"That's the thing, Kid. It wasn't really the talking about it that helped. It was you." He had learned in all the time he'd spent with the shrinks what their lingo was. One set of terms came to mind as he recalled what had initiated the change that he'd been living for the past seven years. "They used to tell me that I needed to change the 'tapes' I was listening to, replace them with something more positive. When you came along, I'd been listening to the ones that told me I was a fraud. That everything I was about was a lie. You replaced those messages with something more. You showed me you believed in me and that helped me believe in myself." He looked over to Sam. "I know Harry got into your head. I know he still taunts you. I wish I could replace his words there with my own, like you did for me. If I could do that, you'd hear what's true and not his lies."

"I hear his voice," Sam confessed. "Sometimes it's there and it drowns everything else out repeating over and over how worthless I am…how weak I am. I just want to shut the voice up." A small shrug moved his shoulders. "I guess that's when I lose control. I want to make his voice quiet but…I don't know how."

"His words are false. You're one of the strongest individuals I've ever met...and worthless? Not a chance. You're one of those pearls of great price the nuns talked about." He sighed. "I know you think I'm nuts, Sam, but I really think if you can forgive Harry, not because what he did was right but because holding the anger in only hurts you, I think that would help." He added a piece to the puzzle. "That's what I found happened when I forgave my captors."

"So how do I do that? If that's how I can silence his voice, how do I do that? I can't change how I feel and when I think about what happened, I get so angry and I...I hate him, Al. I really do. But, sometimes I think I hate myself just as much." Sam looked away again, unable to continue looking into his friend's kind brown eyes. "If I were different, maybe none of it would have happened. If I'd listened to you. You knew something was wrong and if I'd taken you seriously, maybe Rick would still be alive. Hell, Harry would probably still be alive too."

"If I'd had known that something was really wrong, you think I'd have gone along with you and Rick? It was a gut feeling, Sam. That's all. Something just felt...off. But then, I have those types of feelings all the time and a lot of times I'm wrong and it's your gut that's right. And keep in mind, Rick had the same faith you did. I'm not blaming him for his own death, but he didn't believe they were dangerous either." He gave Sam a smile. "You need to forgive yourself too, Kid."

"I don't know, Al. I really don't know how. Up here," he tapped his forehead, "I know what you're saying makes sense but here," he placed his hand over his heart, "I just don't know how to do it. Can you help me and show me how?"

Al let out a breath and licked at his lips, trying to think of a way to show Sam. Finally, he told him, "I think we all have to find our own way." He saw Sam look away with a look that said he was sure that he wouldn't be able to do that. "I know that reading about the life of Gandhi was a turning point for me. The things he had to deal with... One quote of his has always stuck with me. He said, 'The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.' That helped me."

Sam took in the words Al said. He hoped he was the kind of person being described but he wasn't sure. So much had happened over the last couple of years that left him wondering. "Do you think I'm strong enough?"

"Of course, Sam. It's like I said, you have a strength that springs from deep within you. Like everyone, sometimes you get battered and question it, but I can tell you for certain, I've never known anyone who I believe could do it more."

Sam studied the other man carefully. The faith he saw in his eyes convinced him that, with is friend's help, he could use that strength Al claimed he had. "Thanks, Al. I don't think it's gonna happen over night, though. I hope you're willing to give me time and you're not ready to just give up on me - not that I'd blame you at this point."

"I wasn't thinking it would be like waving a magic wand. It would be nice if that could happen, but that's just not realistic." Al put his arm around Sam's shoulder. "And give up on you? You really think that even in the realm of probability? Not going to happen, Kid." He gave him a tousle of his hair.

Sam leaned into the arm around his shoulders and once again gave silent thanks to have a friend like Al. The man had been patience incarnate with him standing by him when anyone else would have given up. If for nothing else but to repay Al, he'd do everything he could to reclaim his life, silence Harry's voice in his head, and prove himself worthy of the trust that Al always had for him. "I guess today's a good day to start, huh?"

"You bet. No time like the present." Noticing the sun had sunk quite a bit lower than when he'd found Sam, Al nodded back towards the house. "You know, though, no one said it can't start back at the house. Your Mother's probably worn a hole in Katie's floor by now."

"Yeah, I guess I was sort of gruff with her when I came out." Sam looked back at the distance he'd covered from the house. When he'd first traversed it, he'd been angry and upset and it hadn't seemed that far. Now, it looked a lot further away. "I think I'm going to need some help."

"That's what friends are for." Pulling his arm away and standing up, he brushed himself off before offering is hand to Sam to help pull him up. "You can lean on me. We'll take however long it takes to get you safely home."

The two men made the slow trek across the sand. Halfway to the house, Sam started to chuckle softly. When Al looked askance he explained, "I was just thinking about what it would be like to have your voice inside my head. You'd probably tell me all your wild stories and try to talk me into doing things with women I'd never do." He stopped walking and turned toward Al, "And I know you'd be giving me good advice every step of the way." They started the walk again reaching the deck. Sam grabbed the crutches from where he'd left them and started up the stairs. "It's worth keeping in mind, though," he said almost too softly for Al to hear.

"Well, you know it wouldn't hurt for you to take a little more interest in the fairer sex."

"I think you take enough interest for the two of us combined and I really don't want to get into that all again, please."

"Sure, Kid," Al agreed readily. After their talk on the beach, he'd seen a calm come over Sam and the last thing he wanted to do was anything that would eradicate that calm. He knew things weren't solved completely and that it would take time before Sam was completely free from Harry's hold but he felt they'd made some good headway today.

As they reached to door leading into the house, Thelma Beckett was waiting for them. She looked questioningly at Al and he gave her a small, reassuring nod. "Did you have a good walk, Honey?" she asked as she rested her hand on her son's back.

"Yeah, Mom. It was." He looked back at Al briefly. "It was just what I needed," he continued speaking more of the talk he had with Al rather than the walk.

"I'll just bet it was." Thelma was also talking about the conversation between the friends.

"So, what are we going to do for the rest of the day? Watch some football?" Al asked.

They'd reached the living room and Sam eyed where his sister sat on the couch next to her husband and a mischievous glint came to his eye. "I've got an idea," he said slowly.

Sensing her brother's scrutiny of her, Katie turned in his direction. "And just what would that be?" she asked warily expecting she was going to be in for a round of her brother's teasing. Considering the way things had been the last couple of days, she'd welcome it.

"We might not be having Thanksgiving dinner until tomorrow but that doesn't mean we can't have other Thanksgiving traditions today, right?"

"Uh, what would those traditions be?" Al caught the looks be exchanged between siblings and was honestly curious just what they could be talking about.

"Oh, nothing, really," Sam said casually. "It's just time for Katie to take her annual Monopoly drubbing, that's all."

At the taunt, Katie sprang up off the couch. "Oh you think so, huh, Big Brother." She went to the coat closet and pulled a box off of the top shelf. "We'll just see about that, won't we?"

Having witnessed this contest between her children many times in the past, Thelma begged off joining them. Instead, she picked up Sarah from her father's lap and encouraged him to join the others at the kitchen table where Katie had started to unbox the game.

Al had never played Monopoly with Sam and it proved a revelation. As he'd predicted, he won handily. What Al hadn't expected was how ruthless Sam could be playing the game. He was about to comment on that as the game drew to a close but he caught the look in Sam's eyes. The sparkle he was used to seeing there was back. Sam was obviously having a good time and was as relaxed as he'd been in a while. Getting beaten handily in the game was worth it to see that look on Sam's face again and he'd welcome a dozen more Monopoly losses if that look stayed.

"What?" Sam asked when he felt his friend's eyes on him.

"Nothing, Kid." Al brushed off the question and tossed the property cards he still had to Katie who was putting the game back in the box. When Sam continued to look at him questioningly, he said, "I was just wondering if there are any more games in that closet. One's your sister and I might have a better chance at winning."

Sam knew Al wasn't being honest with him but right now, it really didn't matter to him. He was enjoying himself and he wanted that to continue. "I don't know. Still got Trivial Pursuit?" he asked his sister.

Katie groaned theatrically at the question. "He said one we have a chance at." Despite her protest, she still got up and got the game.

Thanksgiving ended with games being played most of the day. Dinner was a simple meatloaf that Thelma had put together and they all retired for the night looking forward to the next day's feasts. As they separated to their separate bedrooms, Jim gave them all a final laugh when he pointed out, "You know, I think I might like this whole dinner on the day after Thanksgiving thing. At least I know my wife isn't going to be going to all those sales and bankrupting us."

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

The two men had taken care of their preparations for bed. Sam still insisted that Al should take the bed. After suggesting that Sam should really take it, Al gave in. He wasn't quite ready to go to bed though. "You still have those cards?"

"I put them in the drawer." Sam stretched out on the roll away, pulling the blankets up. "You don't mind if I just go to sleep, though, do you?"

"You're pretty tired, huh."

Sam punched the pillow a few times until it was satisfactory to him. "Yeah, I guess I am." He snuggled down getting comfortable. "I'm not sure why. I slept last night."

"Yeah...well...it's been a busy day." Al retrieved the cards and shuffled them mindlessly.

"Hmmm...busy. It turned out ok, though, didn't it? I mean, things started off rocky but it ended ok."

"Yeah. Sometimes it works out that way," Al said laying out a game of solitaire. "And how in the world did you know there was no Betty Rubble in Flintstone vitamins?"

"I don't know. I just guessed and got lucky." Sam snuggled down deeper into the blankets and a yawn split his face.

"Guessed? I don't think you guessed on many of the questions. I don't think I've ever seen anyone fill up their game piece with pies that fast." He continued going through the cards, finding a black eight to go on the red nine.

"But I did guess. Besides, it doesn't matter how fast I filled it up. You won. Maybe we can play again tomorrow." Another yawn turned the last of what Sam said into a mumble.

"Maybe." Al didn't say anything for a few minutes. He continued playing solitaire. As he found the last ace to put at the top, he commented, "You know, after today, I was thinking...maybe we should consider putting in some board games in the cafeteria at the project. It was pretty nice playing like that today. I could tell you were having fun." When a snore answered his question, Al smiled.

He got up and moved over to where Sam was sleeping. Seeing him sleeping peacefully he couldn't help commenting quietly, "I think this is the most relaxed I've seen you in awhile, Kid. I hope you get the chance to enjoy it this time." He straightened the covers. Suddenly a yawn came unbidden to his face. "Night, Kid." He found that he'd finally found his desire to sleep. "We're gonna make it through this."

He went back to his bed, gathered up the cards and put them on the bedside table and then lay down to the best sleep he'd had in quite sometime.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

When Sam woke the next morning, Al was already up and in the living room watching the morning news with Sarah on his lap. His mother was in the kitchen already beginning preparations for their dinner. He was just about to ask where Jim and Katie were when the front door opened and the two in question walked in, their arms laden with bags.

"Can you believe it, she got me up at 4 in the morning to go shopping," Jim groused as he put the bags down and rubbed his back theatrically.

Katie dropped her bags next to those Jim had carried and pecked him on the cheek. "Just think of all the money I saved you," she told him with a saucy grin. She didn't wait for Jim to contradict her before going into the kitchen to help her mother.

"Saved?" Jim questioned as he watched his wife walk away. "Why is it these once a year sales come around and she claims she's saving me money but our credit cards start to groan?"

"If you ever figure that one," Al commiserated as he handed the baby over to her father, "You'll have to let the rest of us know. I heard that from every single one of my wives. 'But Al, Honey, just think about how much this all could have cost,'" he said in a high singsong voice.

Having no first-hand experience, Sam laughed at the moans and groans from his brother-in-law and friend. "I'm going to go get some breakfast," he told them and moved towards the kitchen.

Katie met him at the door with a bowl of cereal and pushed him gently back into the living room. "You're not getting in my kitchen this morning." Once Sam was seated next to Al on the couch, she handed him the bowl of cereal. "Mom says you just got up so here's your breakfast." Once he'd taken the bowl from her, she moved over to the TV and put a tape into the VCR. "You can watch this to keep you entertained." She pushed play and the screen was filled with the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. "When we decided to postpone Thanksgiving 'til today, I taped this so that you could stay entertained while Mom and I cooked dinner." She turned to the three men, hands on her hips. "I don't want to see any of the three of you in that kitchen unless you're told to. Understand?"

Three heads nodded as all three men knew they're probably be risking life and limb to go into the forbidden territory. "Geez, she sounds just like Mom," Sam commented once he thought his sister was out of earshot.

"I heard that," both women called out as soon as the words had left his mouth.

"You better quit while you're ahead, Sam," Al wisely counseled.

Jim was going to add his agreement but his wife's voice called out before he could asking him to go to the grocery store and get another can of cranberry sauce. He handed his daughter over to Sam. "She's loving this whole stores are open thing."

"I can see that," Al observed. He looked over to Sam. "Sarah seems more content with you today."

Sam cuddled the child in his arms. She was mesmerized by the bands and floats on the TV and sat quietly taking it all in. "I think she's just interested in the TV. It's kind of neat that Katie thought to tape this yesterday. Really makes today feel like it's Thanksgiving."

"Yeah. She's a good sister." Al smiled as the float for Underdog appeared. "I always liked that show. 'Never fear...Underdog is here!'" he quoted dramatically. Course, Rocky and Bullwinkle were pretty cool too."

"I was always partial to Yogi Bear and The Flintstones." When Sarah fussed a little, Sam grabbed the set of plastic toy keys off the end table and gave them to her. "How 'bout you, Munchkin?" he asked the child. "You got a favorite yet?" Sarah's only answer was to wave the plastic keys and laugh at the clacking sound they made. "Guess not," Sam answered for her.

"Yeah. Time enough for that." Al mused. "You know...they do Rocky and Bullwinkle but what about Sherman and Mr. Peabody. I loved his 'wayback machine.'"

"I don't think they can have a balloon for every cartoon. Do you know how long this parade would be?"

"And the problem with that would be..." Al asked with a gleam in his eye.

"Santa Claus would never come," Sam replied reasonably.

"There is that," Al conceded.

The two continued to watch the parade and all too soon, the red velvet clad man made his appearance. Al looked over to Sarah, who was starting to fuss again. "Hey, munchkin, you better be good. Santa's watching."

Sam looked sourly at Al at the implied threat. "You're a very good girl, aren't you? Uncle Al's just jealous, that's all." He picked up the keys that the baby had dropped onto the couch and handed them to her again. "You shouldn't say things like that her, Al."

"Why not? You know the song..." Al sang a few bars and not well. "You better watch out...you better not cry...you better not pout...I'm telling you why..."

"I know the song but you might scare her." Sam was thoughtful for a second then a teasing look came to his face. "Then again, you keep singing and you will scare her."

"You saying my singing's bad?"

"Bad? No, I'm not saying it's bad. More like it's terrible."

"Gee, thanks, Sam." Al paused. "You know, there are some people that think I sing pretty good."

"Oh yeah? Who?" Sam challenged.

"Well, Trudy used to ask me to sing to her. And several old girlfriends. A couple of my wives..."

Sam was going to make a quip that maybe the people Al listed were tone deaf but stopped himself. If he hadn't mentioned his sister, it would just be harmless teasing but he knew Al wouldn't see it that way where Trudy was concerned. "I still say it's bad," was all he said instead.

"Everyone's a critic."

Katie had walked out of the kitchen and overheard the conversation. "No offence, Al, but Sam has a point. It's possible all those girls just wanted to make you feel better."

Al looked up. "Maybe my girlfriends and wives but not Trudy. She liked when I sang to her. Especially "Inchworm." He started to sing song the words. As he did, Sarah squealed happily. "See?"

"Ok, ok, you made your point," Katie begged. "My daughter is apparently tone deaf. Now stop torturing the rest of us."

Al let out a small sigh. "Ok. Fine."

Katie picked up Sarah from Sam's arms. "It's time for you to take a nap, young lady, or you're the one who's going to torture us."

As Katie walked away with her daughter, Al saw an opportunity to go out for a cigar. He pulled one out of his pocket. "I'm going out on the deck, Sam. You want to stay in here or go out with me?"

"I'll go out with you." Sam got awkwardly to his feet and grabbed the crutches.

The two men went out on the deck and the older man prepared his cigar. Once it was lit, he turned to his friend. "I was thinking we might head back to New Mexico tomorrow. I figure that would give us a day to play catch up before we get back to the project. I wanted to check with you though. I wasn't sure you'd be ready to leave yet."

"Yeah, we should." Sam leaned the crutches against the railing and sat on one of the deck chairs. "Does...uh...does anyone know that I left like I did?"

"Well," Al said, taking a pull on his cigar. "I called on Monday. Said we were both called out of town. I didn't give anyone details. Gushie said he'd take care of anything he could. He said he'd leave a message on my answering machine if we were needed for anything he couldn't handle. When I've called to pick up messages, there hasn't been anything from the project."

"Verbena knows, doesn't she?" Sam asked looking up at Al. He sighed and leaned back in the chair. "She's going to want to dissect me when we get back."

Al shook his head. "I haven't told Verbena anything, Sam." He took a breath. "When this thing first started, I just thought it was something that would blow over...that was before I found out you were gone. Then, since I didn't know what had happened, I didn't call anyone. By the time I figured everything out, I had to get to the airport. When I got here, it just didn't seem like a good idea." He knocked some ash off of his cigar. "I think it might be a good idea to talk to her, though, but that's up to you, Kid."

"If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell Verbena?"

"Of course. It's not like I go around telling your business." He felt somewhat guilty for saying as much as he had during this trip to Sam's mother and sister but he really hadn't had much of a choice. "What is it?"

"I think it helps more when I talk to you." Sam watched Al's face carefully gauging the reaction to his words. "Bena's really good at what she does and she's helped me with a lot of stuff but this stuff with Harry," he shrugged, "I just think you've helped more."

Al gave him a slight smile. "I'm glad I was able to help and anytime you need to talk, you know I'll be there for you." He looked out to the ocean. "I just don't want you to make the same mistake I did. I tried to make the things that had happened to me go away by hiding in a bottle. I don't think you'd do that, but there are a lot of ways to hide out. I'm just thinking she might be able to help you in that more than I can."

"I'll talk with her, Al. I'm just hoping I can still talk to you about it. You really have helped me out a lot." Sam got up and moved the couple of steps to stand by Al at the rail. "Like yesterday, when we were on the beach. You helped me to think about things I haven't wanted to."

"Yeah...well...." the older man said. "Like I said, I'll be here for you anytime you need me, Kid." His cigar was finished. "Anyways, let me get us tickets home. I think that's going to help a lot." He certainly hoped so. When he'd checked his messages from home, there had been one from the Idaho DA wanting them to call on Monday. Al didn't want to broach that on a day that Sam was doing better than he'd seen in a long while. He figured maybe they would talk on the plane.

Sam knew without question that Al cared about him, but he also knew that the older man was sometimes uncomfortable when things got too...well...close for his comfort. Still, he needed to have that connection. He put his hand on Al's shoulder in a move that allowed him to convey how much he appreciated his friend being there. "Yeah. Sure, Al. You get the tickets."

The two men went into the house. Al borrowed the phone and soon the travel arrangements had been made. They would be leaving Hawaii mid-morning the next day. It wasn't long after that then the family was called to the table. Jim had gone to get Sarah who had finished her nap. He put her into the high chair that was placed between Katie and Thelma.

The five adults took turns going around the table naming something that they were thankful for that year. The solemnity of their thanks was broken when Sarah, apparently bored with the proceedings, grabbed a handful of the mashed peas on her plate and threw them across the table. They landed on her uncle's nose, putting a halt to his thankfulness.

Sam grabbed his napkin and wiped the green mess off his face and smiled. "I guess I'm most thankful that my nieces knows when to call the ceremony to a halt," he said to the laughter of the others.

With the blessing done, food was passed from one to the other as they filled their plates. Katie and Thelma had outdone themselves cooking all of the traditional Thanksgiving fixings.

Conversation and food was in abundance at the table and laughter frequently broke out. Al thought that this was what it must have been like for Sam growing up and envied his friend these comfortable family times. He hadn't said it while they did the blessing, but he was thankful not only that Sam had come into his life as a friend but that he'd been welcomed as a part of the Beckett family. It was difficult for him to say such things, but he hoped they all knew how much he appreciated being there.

When dinner was done, Sam and Al were both shooed back to the living room. They were only excused from the clean up because of their various injuries. Al had been chagrined when eating to realize that with his right arm in a cast, he couldn't very easily cut the food on his plate. He'd been further chagrined when, without warning, Thelma reached over and cut the food on his plate. He'd wisely said nothing in protest.

Once more the board games were brought out when the kitchen was spotless from dinner. They didn't play as long into the night this time since Sam and Al had to get up early the next morning to get ready for their flight home.

"That was really nice," Al commented as he and Sam got ready for bed.

"Yeah, it was. Everything really did work out." Sam paused in what he was doing and looked thoughtful. "You know, Mom would always tell us there was no great loss without some small gain. I guess if we hadn't had the argument and I hadn't come here, we wouldn't have had a family Thanksgiving dinner." He deliberately didn't mention anything about the car accident.

Al noticed Sam's omission and felt it was best not to point it out. His friend was right. What had had a decidedly rocky start had certainly had a very welcome finish. They'd also come to a decision that was mutually acceptable to both of them regarding the DA's request. He wasn't fool enough to think that any and all problems he and Sam might have in the future had been solved. The two of them had personalities that were just too different for that to happen. He did know that they'd learned some valuable tools to work out those differences next time. He almost missed what Sam said as he got lost in his thoughts. "Huh, Kid?"

"I asked if you want to play a hand of cards before we turned in. I'm not really tired yet."

"Yeah, sure. That sounds good.

Sam got the cards from the drawer in the nightstand and made himself comfortable at one end of the bed. As he shuffled the cards, he felt Al's eyes watching him intently. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing." Al plucked the deck of cards from Sam's hands and started to deal. "I was just thinking that this was the first time in too long that things have felt ok between us. You know, since before Los Angeles."

Sam picked up the cards he'd been dealt and fanned them out but didn't really look at them. "Yeah, I know what you mean. All that stuff is still there, it just feels like I can get past it now and put in perspective. I mean what I said earlier, Al, you really have helped me out more in the last couple of days than all the times I've talked with 'Bena in the last couple of months."

"I'm glad, Sam." Once the cards were dealt out, he picked up his and started to arrange them. As he did, he kept talking, finding it easier to say what he was saying looking at the cards instead of Sam. "I think I know what you mean. All those years when I was hiding in the bottle and then you came along. I know that a lot of people had tried to help me and too many of them I turned away, trying to go it alone. I thank my lucky stars that you gave me a chance."

"I'm the one who should be thankful." Sam closed the cards up and put them down on the bed in front of him. "Don't look at me that way. I mean it. If I'd walked away from you, I would have missed out on my best friend. You've done more for me."

"I think we both can be thankful, Kid. Fate seemed to know that we needed each other."

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam picked up the cards and fanned them out once more. Still serious, he continued, "I've just got one question. What are we playing?"

"What do I usually deal, Sam?" Al asked back.

"Well, we play a lot of different card games. I'd just like to know if this is Old Maid or poker or something. That way I'll know what to keep."

"I dealt out gin.

"Ok, ok. No need to get bent out of shape. I just wanted to make sure."

"I'm not bent out of shape. It's just that gin's my favorite card game. I mean poker's great, but only in a group."

"Al," Sam said with a smile, "I was just pulling your leg."

Realizing he'd been talking things too serious of late, Al smiled back. "Yeah. I guess I need to relearn what that feels like." He quieted for a few beats. "You know what I'm going to do we get back home? I'm going to go shopping and get some steaks and potatoes to bake with all the fixings...and we're going to have a relaxing bar-b-que."

"We'll both go shopping and maybe we can invite 'Bena, Gushie, and Tina. I know I haven't really been Mr. Congeniality lately." Sam tossed out a card and drew another. "And I know it's early but maybe we can start planning some kind of get together for Christmas. Mom's going with Katie and Jim to Maine again. They invited me to go but after all the time I've been away from the Project lately, I don't think that's a good idea."

"You've had good reasons, Kid," Al said without laying out what they were. Sam, more than anyone, knew exactly what they were. "Both of those ideas sound pretty good, Kid. Maybe we can even do a secret Santa thing. It would help morale."

"Doesn't matter what the reasons are. I'm supposed to be the leader. It's time I started acting that way again or I'll have no one to blame but myself if the project goes under." Sam moved the cards around in his hand again before laying them all out. "Gin. Now about that Secret Santa...that sounds like a good idea but I'm going with you to buy the tree this time. I don't need the whole forest in the living room again."

Al blinked a few times when Sam laid out his cards. "That was fast." He then turned back to the conversation at hand. "Sam, even the people that don't really know what's gone down for you...for us...understand that things have been really difficult. If you weren't the kind of guy you are and this wasn't such a cutting edge project, you'd be right. People would start leaving. That's not what's happening though. I've heard through the grapevine that a few project managers have been trying to woo some of our scientists away, but not a one of them have left. That's got to tell you something."

"That's good for now, Al, but if things don't start changing...instead of Rob Motts coming on board I might find Gushie or Tina or someone leaving. No matter what, things have to start changing or it's going to end up crashing and burning." Sam gathered up the cards, putting them in a pile and putting the elastic band back on it. "If that happens, I don't want it to be because of something I did and I don't want you to make excuses for me."

"See, that's exactly what I mean."

"What?" Sam questioned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Just that you're the kind of guy that if you feel responsible for something, you'll do whatever it takes to make sure that what needs to happen, happens." Al smiled. "That's the thing, Kid. Everyone knows that you might have some ups and downs but ultimately, you're going to do what's right and what's in everyone's best interests. Not just your own. That's powerful."

"No. Don't say that." Sam said forcefully shaking his head. "You make me sound like some kind of...of...I don't know...superhero or something and that scares me."

"No. You're not a superhero. I think if that were the truth, none this stuff would have bothered you. You're human, Kid...but you really do care about people, about ideas."

As Sam continued to fight the idea, Al continued. "Take how you've handled Mott's, for instance. I know you want him 'cause he's the best, but there are a lot of people that wouldn't have been as understanding. And what about Tim Shumway. You bent over backwards to help him out when that situation happened last year with his kid. Not every leader takes that kind of interest in their people. Trust me. I've seen enough to know what I'm talking about."

"Have you ever thought it's because I don't know how to be a leader?" Sam countered. "I don't really have much experience doing that."

"You still don't get it. You just do what you do naturally, because you really do care. Why the hell do you think those scientists have followed you out there, Sam? It's not because you've got great skills in contracts, or budgets, or handling all the administrative details. That's what you've got me for. It's because when you talk about an idea, it becomes almost tangible and when you deal with a person, you really hear them. That's why."

"Stop it, Al. Just stop it. Don't you hear what you're saying? You're painting this picture of someone I don't know if I can live up to and if I can't...where does that leave me?"

"I'm not painting a picture of someone you can't live up to. I'm painting the picture of the man who's been my best friend for seven years. I'm not saying anything that I haven't witnessed on a daily basis."

"But you are." Sam was becoming desperate to make Al see his point and to change his thinking. "I'm not that person you're talking about. I'm just Sam Beckett but you're making me sound like someone else."

"So...why do you think I'm not talking about you?" Al asked. He knew how Sam was. He'd seen him interact with people. Like most people, there were times he wasn't in 'his finest hour.' However, overall, he really was a pretty incredible human being.

"Because, that person you're describing is someone, I don't know," Sam shrugged, "someone special. I'm not. I'm just me. It scares me when people look at me like I'm special or different or something." Memories came unbidden of being treated differently during his childhood. Sometimes as some kind of oddity to be feared and sometimes as some kind of prize. Each time it had had happened, he'd always hated the way it made him feel separated from everyone else. "Don't do that to me, Al. You're one of the few people I can trust who'll treat me as Sam and not someone else."

Al opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, stopping what he was about to say. Finally, he looked into Sam's eyes. "Ah, Kid. You are special. Not because of your brain and stuff, although you've got to know that not a lot of people could handle the academics you have. You're special...in here." Al touched his chest. "I'm not saying that you're some kind of...of...saint...like Mother Teresa, but you do care about people. You gonna tell me you don't?"

"You care too. I'm not the only one who cares about people. Please, I'm begging you, don't do it to me."

"I do. I care about a lot of things too. You know how I get about the environment, and fairness, and...well...a lot of things. I'm just saying, Sam, you shouldn't sell yourself short." He saw Sam squirming. "Ok, ok. I won't say anymore."

"Thanks. I just don't see myself that way."

Al sighed. "Yeah. I could point something out about that too, but you'd probably take my head off."

"Is that what I'm doing? Taking your head off?" This time it was Sam's turn to sigh. "I'm sorry, Al. I can try to be this person you see me as but..." Again, he shrugged at a loss.

"You don't need to try, Kid," the older man said. Mentally he added, _It just comes naturally for you._

Sam gave Al a grateful smile. "Thanks, Al. I knew you'd understand." A large yawn took over the younger man's face. "I guess I am pretty tired now. Guess we should turn in, huh?"

Al smiled back. "Yeah. Early day tomorrow."

Sam got up from the bed, limping slowly over to the rollaway. "G'night," he called over to his friend as he lay down and got comfortable."

"Goodnight, Sam," Al called back. He settled in himself. He lay back considering why Sam would be so adamant that he wasn't all that special. It wasn't like Al was saying he wasn't a regular guy too. With a small grin, he considered that the only thing Sam didn't seem quite as 'regular' was his attitude about the fairer sex. He knew Sam wasn't averse to checking out a hot woman, it's just that he didn't do what a lot of guys did and allow his body to override his brain or at least he'd never seen him do that.

Still, there were the other parts of his friend. The part that shied away from fame and all the trappings that came with it. Sam just wanted to pursue his dreams. With a final sigh, he turned over to go to sleep. He was asleep within minutes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The morning was a whirlwind of activity. Both men had packed the night before so that was off the table. However, Thelma had a few things she wanted to send back with Sam, including a new afghan she had crocheted. Katie had also put together a picture album that covered Sarah's growth from the last album she'd sent Sam. Jim figured that the easiest thing to do was to box the extra things and help Sam to pull everything together.

Before they could leave, Thelma insisted on a large breakfast complete with eggs, bacon, and griddle cakes. Once breakfast was finished and it was time to leave, Jim helped them get the luggage and boxes, now packaged to go as checked luggage, in the car.

The goodbyes were said at the house since the car was too full for everyone to go. Thelma gave Sam her love and instructions to call her more often. She also let Al know by her eyes that she wanted him to continue to keep an eye out for her boy when she said her goodbyes to him.

Katie shot a few sibling zingers at her brother, and he back at her, but it was obvious they were said with great affection. To Al, the girl was a little more circumspect, apparently still not thrilled with the 'daddy' Freudian slip of her brother when he was in the midst of his 'incident,' as she chose to call it. Still, she told both of them that they were welcome anytime, although calling first was preferable, if only because of space.

Once all was completed, Jim drove the two to the airport. After check-in, the two went to the gate and sat down, awaiting the boarding call.

As it neared the time to board the plane, there was an announcement informing that their flight was going to be delayed for a reported mechanical issue. Sam looked over to Al uneasily at the announcement. "You know, maybe we could find a boat or something to get back."

"We could..." Al reasoned, "But it would take a lot longer to get home. I thought you wanted to hit the ground running Monday morning."

"Yeah, well, that mechanical problem doesn't sound very comforting."

"We don't know what the mechanical problem is. It could simply be the hatch to the luggage compartment is a little stuck. Doesn't mean it has to be something that could cause a real 'problem.'

Sam got up and moved over to the wide windows that overlooked the planes. "Oh yeah?" he challenged. "How come there's a fuel truck pulled up to it?" He came back over to sit by Al. "It doesn't make me feel good if they forget to fuel the plane."

"You're making assumptions, Sam," Al cautioned his friend although he was careful not to out and out say that the kid was worrying without reason. "It could be that's just a part of the process. I mean, they have to fuel it sometime, right? Even before they announced the delay, we still had a good 40 minutes until the flight was supposed to take off."

"Whatever, Al." Sam slouched down in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest

It didn't seem to matter if his words had been carefully chosen, Al reasoned, judging by Sam's posture. "You just don't want to get on the plane, Kid."

"And you just want me to agree with you," Sam countered.

Taking in a deep breath, Al let it out slowly and went back to picking his words a bit more carefully. Things had been going well this morning. There was no reason to set Sam off. "No. I've never claimed that what I'm saying is what is actually happening...just that it could be something other than a negative thing. I just think that the chances of there being a problem with the plane are between thin and none. Think about it. There was an accident the other day. You think they're not going to check things with a fine-toothed comb? Two accidents from the same airport in the same week wouldn't exactly be good for their PR."

At the reminder of the accident just a week ago, Sam's face blanched and he sat up straight. "I wasn't even thinking of that." He looked nervously in the direction of the windows where he could see the plane. "Maybe…maybe we shouldn't fly home. Maybe we should find another way even if it does take longer. You know…just to be safe."

Al rolled his eyes as he realized again that it really didn't matter what he said or how. Sam had it in his head that something was going to go wrong. Maybe being honest and pointing out the obvious would shake him from that belief. "Sam...you're being unreasonable."

"Maybe," the younger man agreed hesitantly. Al was probably right. For some reason, the idea of flying was bothering him more than it generally did and, consequently, he probably was acting more than a little unreasonable. Right now, it was almost as if he was trying to start an argument with Al and it really would be over something senseless. "I guess I'm just a little more nervous than I usually am."

"Yeah. I gathered," Al agreed as he patted Sam lightly on the back.

"So, you have any suggestions?"

"You might try thinking about what we're going to do about the waiting room. I know you've been worried about the stress our guests might have when they arrive. If you're this stressed right now, what do you think would calm you down? Might as well use your nervous energy for some positive purpose."

"I don't think thinking about someone else's stress is really going to help me." Sam looked over to Al, a half smile on his face. "I know you're trying to help and I'm not saying 'no' just to be difficult. I just don't think that'll help right now."

"Ok," Al agreed. "How about a magazine then?" He nodded towards the shop a little ways away. "You could get one there. Even if you don't see one you want, maybe distracting your mind looking for something would help."

Sam looked over to the shop in question. "Yeah, I guess that might work." He got up and started toward the shop. "Do you want to come with me or wait here with our bags?" Since he had to negotiate the crutches, it had fallen on Al to take care of both of their carryon bags and with his arm in the cast, that hadn't been easy. Sam still wasn't comfortable with him carrying them either considering it wasn't quite a week since Al had had the surgery for the bleeding ulcer.

"What would help you the most, Kid?"

"I'm not looking for help, Al? I just wasn't sure what you'd rather do."

"Then, it would probably be better for me to stay here with the bags."

"Ok. I'll be right back then. Do you want me to get you anything?"

"Oh...a nice blonde would be a good start," Al said with a smile. Seeing the sides of Sam's mouth turn down and the inevitable 'Alllll' forming on the kids lips, he smiled. "Gotcha." A beat later he was serious. "No, not really...I don't know....maybe a root beer?"

"Root beer. Ok. I'll be right back." Sam went into the small convenience store. About ten minutes later he came out with a plastic over his wrist as he maneuvered the crutches. Al rushed over to relieve him of the bag and the two went over to the chairs they'd been occupying. Taking the bag back, Sam pulled out a can of root beer and handed it to his friend. He then pulled out a couple of magazines with crossword puzzles. "I got an extra if you wanted one."

Al took the can and carefully wiped off the top. "Thanks. Nah. You do the puzzles, I'll do the girl watching. You know how it goes."

"Yeah, I know how it goes."

Al drank his root beer, looking around the waiting area. There really wasn't much to look at. After about five minutes, he became bored. He looked over at Sam, relaxed and obviously puzzling out a word.

"Why are you staring at me?" Having figured out the missing word, Sam quickly filled it in.

"I'm not staring," Al contradicted.

"Sure felt like it." Putting the pencil in the book, Sam closed it and sighed. "Think it's gonna be much longer?"

"I don't know. Maybe, maybe not."

"Gee, that's really helpful," Sam responded dryly.

As if to answer Sam, there was an announcement over the loudspeakers. "States Airline flight 3973, service to Los Angeles passengers. There has been a gate change from gate B34 to B2. Repeat, a gate change for States Airline flight 3973, service to Los Angeles from gate B34 to B2."

"Oh boy," Sam muttered as he got up. "It took long enough for us to get to this gate now we have to switch." He was not looking forward to trekking across the airport again on the crutches.

Al noted Sam's reluctance and figured his ability to move was probably the cause. He got up as well. "Sit tight. I'm going to request one of those cars. You know, the one's they use to take people that have...um...difficultly moving to their gate? I think you qualify this time."

Reluctantly, Sam nodded and sat back down. He hated having to rely on any kind of help but it looked like there was no choice this time. "I hate this," he grumbled.

"I know you do," Al responded back over his shoulder. He went up to the gate attendant that was changing the flight information on the wall behind him. He got the man's attention and after a few minutes of discussion, turned around and came back to his friend. "The car will be here in about 5 minutes." He sat down beside his friend again. With a glance over to him, he said a little softer. "You were right. Sort of."

"Huh?" Sam was puzzled by the statement. "What do you mean I was right?"

"Well..." Al started. "I asked why we were being moved to a different gate. The gate agent told me that during their pre-flight checks, they found there was a short in the system that controls the landing gear. They're pulling that plane out of service for repairs and we're going on another one that's checked out clean."

At the news that there had been a mechanical problem with the plane, Sam paled. Licking his lips he started to speak but his voice didn't hold steady. He paused, and then spoke again. "Um, I guess it's good they found out now."

"Yeah...that's what I meant about the 'sort of.' The system worked. They did the checks that lead to the discovery of a problem, put us on hold while they checked it out to see if it really was a problem, determined it was, and now they're moving us to a different plane. It's annoying, but the system worked."

"Uh huh," Sam agreed although he really didn't care much about how the system worked.

As they were talking, the requested car pulled up driven by a rather attractive redhead. "You look like the two I'm supposed to pick up." She looked down at her paper. "Admiral Calavicci?"

A large smile had already plastered the older man's face. "Yes. That's me." His eyes were shining as he took in the 'site.' "My friend here's on crutches. I'm not sure we'd get down to the gate in time."

As Sam got up to move towards the car, he bumped Al with one of the crutches and looked at him warningly knowing just what was going through his friends mind. He moved to the front of the car. As he did, he grimaced and grunted in discomfort.

Al had been thinking about getting in the front with the babe, but realized that Sam was right. He hadn't been thinking...at least not with his brain. Still...he thought looking her over...who could blame him. He sheepishly noted that the leg room was definitely greater in the front and Sam was the one that needed it, the lucky dog. With a sigh he picked up their carryon luggage and put it in the back of the car before hopping in back.

In the meantime, the young woman turned her head to Sam, concern written on her face. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Uh, no. It's ok." Once he was settled in his seat, Sam looked back at Al. "There's a bottle of Ibuprofen in the front pocket of my bag. Can you grab it for me?"

"Um...yeah. Sure." He opened the pocket requested and pulled out a small bottle. "Here you go, Kid."

Sam accepted the bottle and shook out two of the tablets, swallowing them dry. "Thanks," he said as he handed the bottle back.

"If everyone's secure, I'll get you to your gate."

Al stated, "I'm fine...You set, Sam?"

"Yeah, I'm all set," Sam quickly agreed. He was eager to just get on the plane and get home where he could put his leg up. Travelling had never been one of his favorite things to do. When he had to do it with an injury, he liked it even less. He really wasn't looking forward to the time he'd be spending in the confined airplane seat.

"Sam?" Said the driver as she started up the electric car and turned it around. "That's a nice name."

"Thanks." Sam looked at the woman just a bit strangely. He'd never thought much of his name and didn't think there was anything about it that might draw anyone's attention.

"I'm Becky," she said. She slowed to allow people to get out of the way.

"Nice to meet you." Sam was a bit distracted with his thoughts of getting home and not really in a frame of mind to engage in conversation beyond what was required by politeness.

"Becky. Is that short for Rebecca?" Al asked.

She shook her head in the negative. "No. Just Becky."

"Nice to meet you." She seemed focused on driving through the crowd of people. Al turned his attention to Sam. The way the man answered told him that the Kid wasn't feeling his best. "You think those Ibuprofen are going to be enough?"

"I guess," Sam answered with a small shrug. "What other choice do I have?"

Al sighed. "Well," he considered the fact that he still had a half bottle of his pain meds. "There might be something else you could take."

"No. I don't want anything else. That's why I didn't fill the prescription they gave me."

"Yeah...I know why you did that, Kid...but if you're in pain..."

Sam was tempted to take whatever Al was offering him. He was just too wary of what could happen. Thursday night when he was in the hospital was different. He was being monitored then. "I'll be ok, really."

"You're sure?" Al asked. Seeing Sam's annoyed looked he put his hand up. "Ok. Ok. Just asking is all."

Becky spoke up at the lull. "We're at your gate, gentlemen."

Sam waited until the cart came to a stop then carefully got off. "Thanks." He moved a few steps away and waited while Al gathered up their bags.

Al thanked Becky and they moved towards the waiting area. As they approached the long bench seats, an announcement was made that those passengers that might need some extra time or assistance could board first. "We should go, Kid."

Sam had just been about to sit when Al suggested they board. "Yeah, I guess so." He moved behind Al to the gate that led to the plane.

A few minutes later they were on the plane. Sam, as usual had the aisle seat. Al was beside him in the middle seat. "Geez, Sam, I hope there isn't anyone who needs to get to the window."

Sam was about to echo his agreement when he saw an elderly woman coming down the aisle. She had her eye on the row they were sitting in and as she neared, it became obvious she was going to be in the window seat. Awkwardly pulling himself to his feet, he moved a few steps out of the way and tried to give the woman a friendly smile.

The woman eyed Sam then turned her gaze to Al, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for him to also move out of the way.

Al had been attempting to get out. He finally moved out of the way. Noticing the woman was pulling a bag behind her, he asked if he could put it in the overhead compartment for her.

Once the woman's bag was stowed, and she'd moved to the window seat, Sam and Al took their seats once again. "Do you have that bottle of pain killers," Sam asked softly once they were all seated.

Al had pulled out the airline's shopping catalog to stay busy. His head popped up at Sam's question. "Um...yeah. Sure, Kid." He reached under the seat in front of him and pulled out the bag he'd stowed there. Pulling out the bottle of pills, he offered it to Sam. "Here you go, Kid."

Taking the bottle, Sam read the label on it then handed it back to Al. "Thanks, but I can't take this." It was the first time he'd paid attention to what painkiller Al had been prescribed. "Lorcet is the same thing as Vicodin. You know what happened when I took that before."

"Yeah." Al took it back. He turned back to Sam. "But that was because of the other stuff too...right?"

"What other stuff? That was all I was taking then."

"That's right. Sorry. Got them mixed up." He gave Sam a weak smile. "It's not like I'm a pharmacist or anything. To me, ones' pretty much like another."

The older lady looked up from her magazine. "What is he, some kind of a drug addict or something?" She looked around Al and at Sam warily.

Hearing the woman's question Sam sucked in a quick breath but didn't say anything.

Al turned sharply to the busy body. "No. He's not. If you didn't notice, his leg's been injured and he's in pain."

"Pain," she scoffed and turned back to her magazine. "Probably just an excuse," she muttered barely loud enough for Al to hear.

Al let out a huff. Five and a half hours being next to this nozzle was going to be...horrid. He wondered if they could be reseated.

Sensing Al's growing anger, Sam rested his hand briefly on his arm. "Let it be," he said softly.

"That's easy for you to say," Al responded sotto voce. "You're not next to her."

"Just try to ignore her," Sam suggested in as soft a voice.

A moment later, the woman put her magazine down a bit and looked over at what Al was looking at. "Those things are too expensive. You're wasting your time."

Al felt his jaw clenching. Feeling Sam's hand squeeze on his arm, he tried to react civilly. "Well, it is my time to waste."

"I suppose," she answered before turning back to her magazine.

"I don't know..." Al started but was shushed loudly by the woman as the flight steward began her safety spiel.

This time, Sam leaned forward just a little to look at the woman. When he sat back, he gave Al a tiny shrug.

Once the mandatory instructions were given, the plane was put in position to take off. It sat still for a few moments, engines revving before starting it run. Without warning, it started moving down the runway, gathering speed before the induced lift pulled the plane up and into the air. The woman seemed content to look out the window.

As soon as the plane started its lift off, Sam unconsciously reached over and grabbed Al's wrist in a hard hold. Luckily, it wasn't the wrist in the cast.

"Ouch,' Al said involuntarily. He looked over at Sam and saw his eyes closed. "It'll be ok, Kid. We'll be at cruising altitude in no time."

The woman in the window seat, seeing how Sam was acting, clucked impatiently. "I hope he's not going to get sick. I don't like sitting near passengers who get sick."

"He'll be fine." Al's voice was clipped and he didn't care if he offended the woman or not. Her comments were not helping Sam in the least. "He's just uneasy about flying."

"Then I don't see why he's flying if he's afraid of it."

"Cause it's a little hard to get back and forth to Hawaii otherwise."

"There are boats..."

Al blinked. He couldn't believe this woman. "I know all about boats, and ships, and other vessels that ply the ocean. I'm Navy."

"My Harold was Army," she answered as if that trumped his statement.

"Stop, Al. Just ignore her." There was a note of pleading in Sam's voice this time. Hearing the woman's comments was bad enough but if Al's rebuttals were added to the mix, he didn't think he'd be able to keep his own temper in check.

Al was about to respond to the woman's virtual challenge when he heard Sam. "That's nice," he said instead with a smile.

"Thank you," Sam responded feelingly when Al didn't offer a reply in turn.

They had reached cruising altitude and the seatbelt sign was turned off. Al turned to Sam. "Hey...think you can let me up...I need to...you know."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Sam slowly got up and moved out of Al's way.

Al got up and headed to the back of the plane. Once he got there, he took care of business, but once that was done; his next task was to talk to the flight attendant. After explaining his dilemma to her, she said she'd see what she could do. Al went back to his seat to await her suggestion.

When Al came back, Sam was attempting to work on one of the puzzles in the book he'd purchased. The scowl on his face was either an indication that he was still in pain or that their seatmate had been giving him a hard time. He didn't notice Al's return right away.

"Hey, Kid. Can I get back in?" Al asked. He was sure that the woman had been bad mouthing his friend again. He sure hoped the flight attendant could help.

"Huh? Oh, I didn't see you get back." Sam's movements were slower this time as his knee protested additional movement. He had to lean heavily on the seat back while Al moved back to the center seat.

Al was about to get into the seat when the flight attendant caught his shoulder. "Um, Sir. There's a seat one row up on the other side."

Al turned to her. "Only one?"

"Yes sir."

Al looked at the woman and Sam and then back at the flight attendant. With a sigh he stated, "Then I probably shouldn't."

Having overheard the conversation, Sam interrupted and said, "Take it, Al. It's only going to be worse if the two of you are sniping at each other the whole flight."

"I can't leave you, Kid," Al argued. He glanced in the woman's direction but she was engrossed in her magazine and didn't seem aware of the conversation.

"You're not leaving me. You're just moving up a row. If I need you, I can just call your name," Sam pointed out quite reasonably. "Just go, ok. It'll be a more peaceful trip for both of us if she's not aggravating you."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Ok then. Let me get my pack." Al bent into where his small bag was and retrieved it. A moment later he was seated next to a single woman who was returning from vacation.

The elderly woman watched as Al grabbed his bag and left, Sam sitting back down afterwards. She didn't say anything but looked somewhat confused. After going back to reading, she'd occasionally take sideways glances at Sam.

About ten minutes after Al moved, Sam was wishing that he hadn't encouraged him. His knee was really starting to bother him. If Al were still by him, he could distract himself by talking with his friend. Trying not to think about the steady pain, he pulled out the crossword book and tried to concentrate on it.

The woman had continued watching Sam. As his face grimaced she spoke to him. "You really are hurting, aren't?" It was as if she finally believed what Al had told her earlier.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam politely but warily answered the woman. He was expecting her to make another comment about him. "It'll pass."

She sighed. "I hope so. When my rheumatism kicks in, that never seems to happen."

"Um, I'm sorry to hear that." Sam again started working on one of the puzzles hoping he'd be left alone for a little while but his seatmate wasn't ready to give up yet.

"My granddaughter doesn't like it when that happens. I can't pick her up then." When Sam looked at her confused, she added. "She's only three."

"Oh...um...yeah. I guess she wouldn't." As the woman kept chattering on, Sam began to regret more and more encouraging Al to switch seats.

"Would you like to see a picture of Annie?"

Right now he had no desire to look at photos of anyone but Sam didn't want to be rude. "Sure." He expected to be shown a picture of the previously mentioned 3 year old and was surprised when the woman handed him a picture of someone much older.

"That's my daughter. Annie. She's Liza's mother. This is Liza," she said showing him a picture of a little girl with curly black hair.

Sam took the picture and looked at the child. "She's cute." He handed the picture back and hoped he'd get a little peace if only for a few minutes.

"Annie's husband walked out on her a year ago. I never did like that no account but he just left her high and dry." She looked at Sam speculatively. "Are you married, Dear? By the way, my name's Clara Tuttle."

"No, Ma'am. I'm not." Sam made sure his voice conveyed that he didn't have any interest in the idea of marriage at the moment – especially not with someone he didn't know. He also didn't volunteer his own name. He marveled how yet again someone, who didn't know him, sounded like she was trying to set him up with a woman.

"Are you going to LA for a visit or are you going home?" The woman didn't mention anything else about her daughter apparently getting the message that line of conversation wasn't welcome.

Sighing, Sam put down the book again. "We're going home - to New Mexico."

"New Mexico! What a lovely state. When Harald was stationed in Fort Carson during the war, we'd visit New Mexico." She gave a shy smile. "Do they still make those blue corn tortillas? My Harald used to love those."

"I guess so." Sam hoped if he kept his answers short and sweet she'd get this message as well..

"What part of the state do you live in? I always enjoyed Santa Fe. Do you live near Santa Fe?"

Socorro," Sam answered in a clipped tone hoping that the woman would correctly interpret that he wanted to be left alone. To further make his point, he reclined the seat under the pretense of taking a nap.

The woman continued to talk for awhile but finally got the idea. "Oh, you must be tired and here I am prattling on." She pulled another magazine out of her bag and started to read that.

"Um, it's all right." As much as Sam craved peace and quiet right now, he also didn't want to offend the woman.

The woman took Sam's words as permission to begin chatting with him again. She kept it up for nearly the rest of the trip and hardly seemed phased that most of Sam's answers were either nods or one word answers.

When the pilot announced that they were on their final approach to LAX, Sam breathed sigh of relief knowing that it would soon mean the end of Mrs. Tuttle's chattering.

When the plane stopped at the gate, the sound of multiple seat belts being released was the primary sound.

Sam started to get up to let the woman out but she told him with his leg he should just wait until everyone else got out of the way. As the physicist listened to her suggestion, the aisle filled and there wouldn't be another chance until the plane actually cleared. Sam sighed as the woman took his captive status to resume her tale of the surgery her niece had undergone. He'd made the mistake of admitting he was a medical doctor and she'd taken that as an invitation to tell him about every little situation that had occurred in her immediate family and some that went beyond. When the plane finally cleared, he got up and let her out, thankful that Al was still in his seat as well. Once Al got the woman's luggage down again at Sam's request, she walked to the front and out of their life.

"You ok, Sam?" Al asked, noticing that Sam didn't look ok. If anything he looked worse then he had when they got on the plane. He'd hoped the younger man might catch a nap while they flew like he usually did but it didn't look like that had happened. He wondered if the old busybody had anything to do with that.

Sighing as Mrs. Tuttle disappeared up the aisle, Sam sank back down to his seat while Al pulled his bag and crutches from the overhead bin. "It's really hurting and she just kept talking." He rubbed his temples then let his hands fall to his lap. "I was hoping I could take a nap or something but she just wouldn't let me." He looked up at Al. "I don't think I can do it anymore today. I just wish we could go somewhere and I could just put my leg up and ice my knee for a while."

"Ah geez, Kid, I'm sorry. I should have stayed with you and acted as a buffer."

Sam waved off the apology. "It wouldn't have mattered who sat next to her. I'm sure she still would have kept talking…and talking and talking. She just didn't stop."

Al squatted down next to Sam listening to him and commiserating with him. He'd been on flights like that before where your seatmate just couldn't take a subtle hint. "You sure you don't want to push on? I mean, what are the chances you'll be sitting next to a nutcase like her again...you'd be home in a few hours."

"It's not just that. I just can't sit like this anymore. It's too cramped. I'm sorry. I know you probably want to get home today but I really don't think I can."

Al patted Sam on the shoulder and stood up again. "No. It's ok, Kid. If you can't, you can't. I'm not going to ask you to be uncomfortable." He noticed that the plane was cleared. "Let's get off the plane at least. We can figure the rest of it out when we're in the terminal.

"Sure." Sam got up and accepted the crutches Al held out to him. When they reached the end of the jetway they noticed that the crowd of people had thinned out. Sam moved over to where he saw a row of plastic chairs and sat down with a groan. "I don't think I can get back on a plane today. I really do need to get my leg up and ice my knee."

Seeing Sam wasn't just grousing about the pain, Al nodded. "Ok. I'll see what I can do. You stay here."

Sam nodded his thanks and settled more comfortably on the chair.

First thing Al did was go to the counter to check on the possibility of getting their luggage. He was told they couldn't do anything about that. The luggage would be going on to New Mexico whether they were on the plane or not. Al wasn't thrilled to hear that, but he understood the airline's dilemma.

Next thing he did was let them know they weren't going to go with the luggage for certain. He found out what they needed to do to rebook a flight for the next day and did that. Finally, he went over to one of the kiosk restaurants and got a bag of ice and purchased some water for his friend. Coming back to where Sam was sitting, he offered him the ice and retrieved the bottle of Ibuprofen again. "You can at least be comfortable while I find us a room."

Turning sideways so he could put his leg up on the row of chairs, Sam accepted the bag of ice and put it on his knee then took the Ibuprofen. "Any luck getting the rest of our luggage?"

"Um...no, Sam. They can't pull it off the plane. We'll catch up with that tomorrow."

"I guess we can make do then." Sam tried to settle more comfortably on the hard, plastic chairs. "One we get checked into a hotel, you think I can get that prescription for the painkillers filled. I'd be willing to take it right now."

"Sure thing, Sam. As soon as I get you settled in a room I'll see about getting it filled. In the meantime, hopefully that Ibuprofen and the ice will help you out. Let me go make some phone calls. We'll have you in a room lickety split."

"I'll be here when you get back."

"Ok, Kid." Al moved off to a phone and started making calls to get them a room. He was able to book them at the airport Hilton so they wouldn't have to go too far. There probably wouldn't be a need to rent a car. Once the hotel was taken care of, he rescheduled their flight back making sure to get one in the late morning. That would give them both a chance to sleep in. The way Sam looked, he could probably use it.

When Al got back to where Sam was sitting, the younger man was just getting back from depositing the used ice in a nearby trash receptacle. "Any luck with a room?"

"I got us one at the Hilton. We just need to get the shuttle over to it

"Which direction?"

"Hang on." Al gestured for Sam to sit down again. As much discomfort as the younger man seemed to be in, it probably wasn't the best idea to have him traipsing all over the airport. "I'm going to go the desk and see if I can get us a little help. You don't need to be on that knee more than necessary or the swelling's never going to go down."

It grated on Sam to have to be dependant on anyone or to be treated differently. Even though what Al said made a tremendous amount of sense, he just didn't want to acknowledge it. "I'd rather just walk. We can take our time. It's not like we have a deadline to be somewhere. Besides, if it's too much, you can call someone then."

Any thought Al had of contradicting Sam disappeared as soon as his friend turned his patented puppy dog look on. Someday, Al reasoned, he'd be immune to it. It just didn't look like today. "Ok, Kid. It's against my better judgment but if you think you can handle the walk, we'll do it your way."

Al led the way through the airport to where the free shuttle to the hotel could be picked up. He was tempted to call a halt to their trek a couple of times when he heard grunts of discomfort coming from Sam. The first time he tried, though, the other man insisted they keep going. He decided it would be futile to try again.

Once they were in the shuttle, it was a relatively quick ride to the hotel. Check in was accomplished with a minimum of fuss and they were soon in their room. Gratefully, Sam stretched out on one of the beds. He leaned down to loosen and remove the knee brace, putting it off to the side. He scowled when he saw how swollen the joint still was.

Al also scowled when he saw the persistent swelling but chose not to say anything. Instead, he grabbed the ice bucket. "I'm gonna get you some ice for that."

When he came back, he made an icepack for Sam's knee and made sure his friend was settled comfortably. Going through Sam's carryon, he located the prescription for the pain reliever he'd been given. "You sure you can get this filled here. It's out of state."

"Yeah. They'll probably call the hospital to check but it shouldn't be a problem."

"Ok, then. I'm gonna see about getting this filled." Al grabbed the room service menu off the table and brought it over to Sam. "Why don't you look through this and see if there's anything you want and we can order dinner. I don't know about you but that food on the plane left a lot to be desired and I could use a little something."

Al went down to the concierge's desk and asked if he could get assistance getting the prescription filled at a local pharmacy. Once the prescription was taken care of, Al went into small hotel gift shop and purchased a few toiletries that they'd need. He knew that Sam, like him, had long ago learned the value of keeping some personal items in his carryon including an extra pair of boxers and socks. They wouldn't have to worry about that. With his errands completed, he went back up to the room.

"Hey, Kid, you pick out something for dinner," Al asked as he came through the room door. His words died on his lips when he caught sight of Sam. He'd fallen asleep with the room service menu open on his chest. "Guess the old busybody's chatter caught up to you," he whispered as he took the menu away. Gauging that enough time had passed, he removed the ice from Sam's knee, found a spare blanket in the closet and draped it over the sleeping man.

Since the menu had been open to a page with burgers and such, Al took a chance that that's what had caught Sam's fancy. He called room service, placing an order for two burgers. He'd let Sam sleep until their meal got here. He figured the kid deserved the respite after what he'd endured on the flight. Plus, as long as he was sleeping, he probably wasn't feeling that much pain.

Once dinner was ordered he took the time to get more comfortable. Eventually though, there was a knock on the door. When Al opened it, he found their meals had been delivered. Signing the ticket to allow the cost to be put on their bill, he then allowed the man to bring in the tray and set it up. Once the man left, he went over to the bed and shook Sam. "Hey, Kiddo. Time to eat."

Since he wasn't deeply asleep, Sam woke up quickly. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. "You're back?"

"I've been back."

"I didn't hear you come in. Why didn't you wake me?" Sam hitched himself higher up in the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard. He saw their dinner on the table by the window but didn't feel like putting the knee brace back on to move. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and gingerly stood up putting no weight on his injured leg and reached for the crutches. "How'd you know what I wanted?"

"You had the page opened to burgers. I know how you like them so...I ordered."

"Oh, ok. I just thought you started reading my mind." Sam made his way over to the table and sat down. "Smells good," he commented when he pulled the cover off of the plate.

"Yeah...it does." Al sat down opposite Sam. "I've got the prescription ordered, Sam. It should be delivered soon."

"Thanks." Sam assembled his burger the way he liked it from the garnish and condiments that came with the meal. "I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes," he said not looking from his meal. "And I don't mean that 'cause I'm feeling sorry for myself. It's just the truth." He took a bite out of burger and chewed. "You take care of me," he said around the mouthful.

"Well..." Al said, "Sometimes everyone needs a little help from their friends."

"But it doesn't mean you'll have a friend who can help you the way you need."

"I've said it before. It goes both ways. I don't know where I'd be right now if it wasn't for you. Having you literally walk into my life probably saved my life."

"As I recall," Sam said with a smile, "it almost ended mine. You can swing a mean hammer, you know. It's just a good thing I've such good ducking skills." The smile grew broader. "I still don't know what that vending machine ever did to you," he continued echoing the words he'd said when they first met.

"It took my dime."

"Uh huh and for that it deserved to lose its life. I keep telling you, you need to get some help for that chocolate addiction before some innocent machine pays the price." Sam chose not to be bring up the fact that, at the time, Al had been inebriated which was the main reason he'd gone on the attack. That part of his friend's life was in the past and there was no use in bringing it up.

"Well...it HAD taken a grand total of $3.60 over time. I was just fed up."

"Isn't it more like you were hungry?" Sam asked with a twinkle in his eye. It occurred to him this kind of easy bantering hadn't happened between Al and him that much over the last few months. It felt good.

"There was chocolate at stake."

"Oh, so I guess chocolate is more important than caving in my skull." Sam took a big bite from his burger. "Remind me not to get between you and the Hershey's next time," he said after he'd swallowed.

"I didn't know you then, Sam and I wasn't exactly thinking straight." He smiled, "I remember a few times when you've been a chocolate fiend."

"Well...yeah," Sam wheedled. "But I've never attacked a machine." He stuffed his mouth with fries as he mumbled, "I just got my arm stuck."

Al stopped lifting his burger and from the look on his face, it was obvious he was confused. "I don't remember that happening, Kid..."

Sam finished swallowing and wiped his hands and mouth on one of the paper napkins. "It happened when I was in school. I wanted a candy bar and it got stuck. I thought I could just reach up and...you know." He laughed ruefully at himself as he finished. "I think I gave the Cambridge fire department their laugh for the week."

"You must have had skinnier arms then."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"You gonna tell me you'd try that stunt now?"

"No. I wouldn't have to." The smile on Sam's face grew broader. "I'd just find you and your hammer and you'd beat it out of the machine."

"I guess...but I haven't taken a hammer to a machine since then."

"Well, there's always a first time for everything." Sam paused for a moment then corrected himself. "I guess it would actually be the second time. It shouldn't be a problem, though. I've learned to keep chocolate in my desk."

"I know. Where do you think I go if I need a fix?"

"That's why I keep running out." Sam finished his burger and pushed the plate away. "You know, some chocolate wouldn't be a bad thing right now."

"I thought you might say that, Kid." Al went over to his carryon. "You know when I got you the Ibuprophen? I picked up a couple of candy bars."

Sam accepted one of the chocolate bars and peeled the wrapper off. "Like I said, you take care of me," he said before biting off a chunk.

Al just smiled as he went back to his burger to finish the few bites before he too dug into his own sweet treat.

When both men were done with their dinner and dessert, Sam pushed back from the table. "I think I'm going to take a shower. You think it'll be much longer before the pharmacy fills the prescription?"

"I'll call dow..." Al started before being interrupted by the knock at the door. "That's probably it now." He crossed the room to the door and opened it. He was right. After taking care of tipping the young man who'd brought the bag with Sam's prescription, he turned, closing the door behind him. "Here you go. Relief."

"I never thought I'd be happy to see those. I think I better take my shower first before I take that."

"Yeah. Good idea."

Sam didn't linger in the shower any longer than necessary. He would have enjoyed just standing under the warm water but knew better than to stay standing on his unprotected knee any longer than necessary. When it came time to get out, he discovered he couldn't do climb over the tub and called out to Al.

While Sam was in the shower, Al went about cleaning up the tray so he could put it outside the door. He kept one ear listening in case Sam might need his help. It didn't take long for that call to come. He went over to the door and walked in. "Need some help?"

"Yeah. I could use a little help getting out if you don't mind." Sam grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist before Al opened the door.

"Ok." Al moved over to the younger man, offering his arm as a stabilizer. "I checked the cable guide. Not much on tonight."

"I'll tell you what, go in my wallet and pull out some money and go down to the gift shop and get a deck of cards and some M&M's to use as chips and I'll win your car in a game of poker." Sam sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and looked up at Al. "That is, of course, if you can restrain yourself from eating the chips."

"I'll just get an extra bag."

"You know what I'd really like?" Sam didn't wait for Al to answer. "I'd really like some chocolate ice-cream. Think they might have some down there."

"I can check. If they do, I'll bring some up." He paused a beat. "It'll taste good with the chocolate chips."

"You're getting chocolate chips, too. Isn't that going just a little overboard?"

"No...I meant the M&M's...you know...we're using them as chips. Geez, Sam. I thought you could follow this." He said that last with a bit of lilt showing he wasn't being serious.

"Hey, you're the one who said chocolate chips, not me." Sam went right along with Al's joking. "I just thought maybe there wasn't enough of the stuff for you yet. I know how much you like chocolate."

"Like I'm the only one," Al said going to the door. Right before exiting, he said, "Be right back with the cards and our second dessert."

"Guess it's better than stubborn," Sam said in a low voice as the bathroom door closed behind Al. He finished drying and getting dressed and made his way back out to the room. Sitting on the side of the bed, he picked up the brace to put it back on but, deciding he wasn't going to be going anywhere, he put it aside again. They could play cards sitting on the bed and he could keep his leg up that way. It was a few minutes later that Al came back from his errand.

"What a score, Kid. They had an ice cream parlor downstairs. I got us sundaes!" He said the last with an almost conspiratorial giddiness.

"Extra hot fudge?" Sam asked with the same giddiness. "And did you remember the cards and the M&M's?"

Al looked at Sam as if he'd just struck him in the heart. "Forget cards, chips, and hot fudge? I may be getting old, Kid, but I'm not senile." He tossed the bag with the cards and M&M's on the bed.

"I'm just checking, you know. There is a chance that there could have been some blonde down there...or a redhead or a brunette...and you forgot what you were supposed to be doing. What?" Sam asked innocently when Al made a face. "You're not going to tell me that that's never happened before, are you? Remember the time you were supposed to get the molly screws at the hardware store so I could hang the bookshelves in my office at home? You got so captivated by the clerk at the register you brought drill bits instead."

"You should have seen her, though. She was hot and she had to bend down to get the drill bits."

"But I didn't need drill bits. I needed Molly screws. There is a difference you know."

"Yeah...I know the difference."

"So, if you know the difference, why'd you bring back the drill bits?"

"Love." Al shrugged. "But you know, it wasn't all bad. Remember the next day you decided you wanted to change where on the wall you wanted the shelf and if I'd actually brought you the molly's, you would have had to fix the wall."

"Doesn't excuse it. You still brought back the wrong thing and it wasn't because of some psychic insight you had. Now, are we going to eat that or let it melt?"

"Oh...yeah," Al said, getting pulling the two not quite as perky sundaes out of the bag. He held them out. "Which one you want?"

"Whichever. They're the same, aren't they?"

"More or less."

"More or less? They either are or they aren't."

"Well...Angela and I were talking while she was making them. I'm not sure that everything is 100% the same."

"Angela?" Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Once, just once can there not be a woman involved. Ok, give me the one she made before you started hitting on her. It's the one least likely to have hot sauce in it."

Al looked at both of them critically as if trying to decide which one that would be. Finally he handed one to Sam.

"Thanks." Sam took the cover off the cardboard container and put it on the nightstand between the two beds. He gave the ice-cream a cursory look but nothing seemed amiss other than the two cherries that were on top of it. "You want these?"

"You don't?"

"Nah, I never did like the cherries." Once he'd handed the fruit over to Al, Sam indulged himself in the sundae. Whether it was because the Angela Al had spoken of had been distracted or because Al had specifically asked, the sundae was loaded with extra hot fudge – just the way Sam liked it.

The two men ate their sundaes and traded small talk as they did. Again, Sam reflected on how this normalcy felt so good to him and how it hadn't happened often in the last couple of months. He hoped this meant things were on the road to be normal all the time.

When he'd eaten most of the sundae, he sighed and put the cardboard bowl down on the nightstand. "That was really good."

"You're not going to eat the rest of it?" Al asked when he saw there was still some ice-cream in the bowl. It wasn't often that Sam didn't finish a hot fudge sundae.

"I'm stuffed. First the burger and now this."

Al nodded slightly conceding that the burgers had been good sized and Sam had eaten all of his. He scraped the last bit of ice-cream out his bowl then took his and Sam's to throw them out. "You wanna move over to the table to we can play."

Sam considered Al's suggestion but he was comfortable where he was right now. Since he took his shower and iced his knee again it was feeling just a little better and he hadn't taken the painkiller. He'd much rather stay where he was comfortable and hold off on the medication as long as possible. "You don't mind if we play here, do you? If I don't have to take the…what is it anyway?"

"Tylenol 3," Al supplied looking at the bottle.

"Ok. Well, if I can hold off on taking it, I'd rather."

"Sounds good, Kid. Why don't you get the cards open and I'll be right there." When Al came back to the room after flushing the uneaten ice-cream down the toilet, Sam was shuffling the deck of cards. He grabbed the bag of M&M's and sorted them out into separate piles by color then divided them between him and Sam.

"You know, after I win your car, I think I might just get it painted black." Sam made the threat with a smile.

"In your dreams, Kid. You'll be lucky if you still have a house when we're done." Al continued the banter right back as Sam dealt out cards to the two of them.

They played for the next two hours. In that time both men won and lost about the same although both piles of M&M's had gone down. When Al noticed Sam rubbing his knee and grimacing in pain, he knew he couldn't wait any longer to take the painkiller. "I think it's time for that Tylenol 3, Sam. I don't think it's going to feel better otherwise."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam agreed reluctantly.

Al got up and grabbed the bottle off of the table and got a glass of water. "I'm gonna go get more ice for your knee," he said as Sam took the medication.

Once the ice was in position on Sam's knee, they decided to forgo playing cards any more. Even though the Tylenol 3 was weaker than most of the painkillers Sam had taken in the past, it would probably start to interfere with his mental processes before long. Instead, they found a movie they both were interested in and watched that instead. It was just about over when Sam started to drift off to sleep.

"Hey, Kiddo, lie down and go to sleep," Al suggested. He'd taken the ice off Sam's knee a while ago. His friend muttered a response and did as he was told. Al watched the end of the movie then turned off the TV. Before settling in for the night himself, he checked to make sure Sam was comfortable and covered. "We had a good night, Sam," he said softly, as he looked at his friend's sleeping face. Let's hope there are more of them."

He moved back to his own bed and climbed in under the covers. "Lot's more of them," he said as he turned out the light and settled down for his own night's sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The next morning Al wasn't completely surprised that Sam wasn't up with the chickens. Although the medicine wasn't strong, with all the other things conspiring to tire him out, Sam just slept through the wake-up call. Al waited as long as he could before going over and shaking him awake.

"Is it morning already?" Sam mumbled as he blinked his eyes open.

"Yeah, Kid, it is. It's also after 8 am and I need you to get up and ready if we're going to make our flight.

Hearing the time, Sam quickly sat up in bed. "Geez, it's eight? Why'd you let me sleep so late?"

"You looked like you needed it."

"Yeah, but now we're going to have just enough time if we're lucky." Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the crutches. "You want to call down for some breakfast or something while I get ready?"

"It's already on its way up, Kid. I figured you be ok with eggs, bacon, toast, and juice."

"Yeah, that's good." Sam made his way over to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a little while."

When room service knocked on the door, Al took care of the bill as he had the night before, then wheeled the breakfast in. Sam was just coming out of the bathroom clad in the boxers and undershirt he'd slept in. "Oh, there you are," Al said seeing his friend walk in the room. "Breakfast's here but I think you might want to wear a little more than that to the airport."

Sam sat at the table to eat. "I'll get dressed after I eat". He pulled one of the plates of food over and took the lid off of it. "This looks good and I'm really hungry." As he buttered his toast, he started talking about his plans for the project. "When we get in tomorrow, there's some circuitry in the Imaging Chamber I want to check. I think it's going to need some tweaking."

"Yeah. I was wondering about that myself," Al said as he dug into his own breakfast.

"Good. So we can work on that tomorrow...maybe avoid our offices and the paperwork for a little while longer?" He asked the last with a hopeful lilt in his voice. It seemed that paperwork was something he would never enjoy doing.

"I can help you in the IC and with the paperwork you're bound to have, Sam, but I do have some reports to finish first. Rushing off to Hawaii didn't do us any favors where that's concerned."

Immediately, Sam felt guilty for being the cause of the disruption in their work. He was the one who was always pushing to keep things on track but here he'd gone off without any notice or thought as to how it would throw things out of whack. "I guess that's my fault. You don't have to help me. I'll get the circuitry taken care of and I can get through whatever's on my desk."

"No, Sam. You're right," Al objected. "The Imaging Chamber needs some work. You concentrate on that and I'll get both of our paperwork done. I always do."

Sam shook his head at Al's offer. Suddenly, he didn't seem quite as hungry as he had a moment before and started to push the food around his plate. He wouldn't let his childish actions impact on Al. "No. You do your work. You're going to be behind because of me already."

Al let out a sigh and put his fork and knife down. He leaned over, resting a hand on Sam's forearm. "Don't do this, Kid," he nearly begged. "It really isn't that big a deal. I can get it done with one marathon night. Like I said...I've done it before."

"No," Sam said forcefully as he pulled his arm away. "You're not going to help me in the Imaging Chamber then pull an all-nighter to get your work and mine done. I won't let you do that. I'm the one who acted like a spoiled brat. I'm the one who should have to pay the price, not you."

"You don't always have to pay a price," Al said, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms on the edge of the table. He looked directly into the younger man's eyes. "You did what you needed to. I get that."

"What I needed to do was stay home and make things work not go running to Mommy like I was six years old and the kids pushed me on the playground," Sam responded derisively. He pushed the food around his plate a bit more.

Al paused to think carefully about what he was going to say before he spoke. He wanted to tell Sam that his feelings were justified without demeaning him in any way. "I think in some sense, that is what happened. Why wouldn't you need to handle it that way?"

"Thanks a lot." Sam put down his fork and got up going over to where his carryon was on the bed. "Maybe you should just hire a babysitter for me from now on."

Al blew out a breath realizing that no matter what his intentions were, he'd still managed to make Sam feel demeaned for his honest reactions. He got up and moved to stand just beside Sam. He started to put his hand on the younger man's back but stopped with it hovering a few inches away unsure if the touch would be welcomed right now. "That's not what I meant, Sam. What I meant was that in the last year you've had three psychos doing a lot more than just pushing you down on a playground. It just means that you needed a safe harbor to get your balance back not that you can't take care of yourself or that you're incompetent or anything like that. "

"That's sure what it sounded like." Sam sank down on the edge of the bed, the defensiveness draining out of his voice. "God, Al. I saw someone killed in front of me and there was nothing I could do." It was really the first time he'd admitted what he'd witnessed in such a blunt fashion. Most times when he tried, he wasn't able to finish the thought, often asking Al to do it for him. This time, he was able to say it plainly.

Al sat beside his friend on the bed. This time, he didn't hesitate before resting his hand on his back and rubbing gently. "I know, Kid," he said compassionately. "And I know just how much it hurt you."

"It's not just that. I just felt so...so...helpless and sometimes I still do." Sam remembered the conversation he and Al had had almost a year ago when they were stranded in the cabin during a blizzard. "I had no control. I couldn't control what Harry did and now I can't control how I feel. I hate that."

"Yeah. I know the feeling."

Closing his eyes, Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not going to do it this time, Al." He opened his eyes and saw his friend's confused look. "I'm not going to let the feeling win this time. If I want to be in control of myself, I have to start now. I enjoyed last night. It felt normal and we had fun. That's what I want from now on – not to pick arguments with you or let my own fear run my life. I can do it. I **can **prove him wrong and I will."

Al lightly clapped Sam on the back happy to hear the confidence in his voice. "I've always known that, Kid but I'm glad you see it now."

"I do, Al. I really do. I guess sometimes I just lose sight." Sam took another deep breath and let it out, lightly slapping his hands against his thighs. "Let's get going. We don't want to miss the flight."

"We still have a few minutes. Why don't you come and finish a little more of your breakfast. I don't think we get anything on the plane."

Sam looked over to his half-eaten breakfast. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. How about tonight we go to the Hungry Dragon for dinner or maybe Fiorello's?"

"That sounds good, Sam. We can decide later, though. We still have a long day ahead of us."

"Ok," Sam agreed.

The two men finished their breakfast, grabbed their bags and headed out to the airport.

The flight to New Mexico proved to be a more tolerable journey than the one they'd had the day before. They didn't have anyone in the row with them and, in general, things went well.

Once they got to the airport, they went to retrieve the luggage that had arrived long before them. Finally they caught a shuttle to long term parking, arriving a few minutes later at Sam's car.

"Um...I can't drive," Sam pointed out standing at the rear of the car. "I can't use my left leg for the clutch."

"Well, handling the clutch wouldn't be a problem for me, Al pointed out. "But..." He lifted his arm, "...shifting would be pretty much impossible." He thought about the fare he'd paid when he'd taken the cab the week before. "Maybe we should rent an automatic."

"But then the parking is just going to keep going up if I leave the Jeep here and we'd have to figure out some way to come back and get it."

"True," Al acknowledged. He bit at his cheek. "You know, we could work together."

Sam looked at Al questioningly. "And just what do you propose we do?"

"Simple. I'll drive and you can shift for me." Al made the statement very quickly then braced himself for any resistance from Sam.

Alternately eyeing the Jeep and Al, Sam mulled over his friend's suggestion. On the whole, it would probably work. Still… "It's not a ride around the block, you know."

"Yes, Sam, I know you don't live around the block from here." Al maintained his patience sensing that with just a little push, Sam would agree with him. "It's not like we're going to be driving in the city and having to constantly shift up and down. We'll be on the highway for a good part of the ride."

"Ok," Sam agreed with a nod and shrug. "I don't have any better ideas that aren't going to cost us a fortune so that should work. Let's get going."

Al loaded their bags into the Jeep then helped Sam into the front seat. "You ready?" he asked as he got in the driver's side and buckled his seatbelt.

"As I'll ever be."

When Al went to start the vehicle, they encountered their first instance of working together. With the cast on his right hand and arm, he couldn't turn the key in the ignition. "Uh, guess I need a little more help than shifting."

Letting out a small chuckle, Sam leaned over and turned the key starting the ignition. "I've got a feeling this is going to be an interesting drive home."

"Yeah...I guess you're right." They sat there for a moment. "Um...Sam...I've got the clutch in. You need to put us in reverse."

"Oh! Yeah, right." Sam shifted as requested.

"Thanks." Within moments they'd gotten the rhythm down as Al headed towards the highway. "You want to pick something up to eat before we head back?"

"Not really. I'm not hungry. Besides, I thought we were going out to dinner tonight."

"Yeah. Just wanted to check. You know there's nothing between Albuquerque and Socorro to speak of."

"Yeah, I know." Reflecting on how they were having to be creative to drive, Sam offered, "Why don't we just get delivery later instead? We can get Chinese from the Hungry Dragon or maybe pizza."

"We can do that. Might be easier."

"Ok." They drove in silence for a few minutes with Sam looking out the window at the passing scenery. "You think before we can go to my place we can stop by Mr. Perez's. He's supposed to be back and I wanted to look in on Farkel."

"No problem Kid. I wouldn't mind seeing your friend too."

"Good. I haven't seen him in a while. I don't want him to forget about me." Sam looked at his leg in irritation. "Especially since I won't be able to ride him for a while. Maybe we should stop by the grocery store. I can get him a treat and we can pick up some stuff and skip ordering out all together."

"Now that sounds like a plan. You want to stop by the grocery store in Socorro?"

"Yeah, that would probably be best."

"Ok." They continued down the highway for awhile, both in their own thoughts. Finally Al asked, "So, you thought anymore about that I idea I was telling you about last week?"

"Which one?"

"You know...the one where we give the crew at the project a three day weekend every other month....or four...maybe even five? I figure, if they signed on to live in a frigging desert, that might be a pretty cool perk."

"Oh, that one." Sam's voice held very little enthusiasm knowing that Al probably wouldn't like his decision. "Yeah, I did think about it and, sorry, but no. We keep falling behind as it right now." He decided not to mention that on more than a few occasions his own unexpected absences were the cause of delays. "Tell me how we're going to stay on schedule if everyone keeps getting more time off."

"Cause we have them work a day on a weekend, or two, for them to have the time off the next weekend," Al explained It's the same amount of time worked...but they get some personal time as well."

"No," Sam said shaking his head. "There's nothing wrong with the system we have now. It's been working fine and I'm not going to tinker with it. Just about every month has a holiday and everyone's provided ample vacation time."

"But Sam...this might prevent some burn out. You know, there have been a few that have questioned their decision."

"Al...no. That's my final decision. Now drop it, ok."

Al sighed. "Ok. Fine. You asked me to be creative. I'm just trying to do that."

"I said creative, not restructure everything."

"Ok, Sam. You don't have to get upset."

"I'm not getting upset." When Sam responded there was a definite defensive note in his voice. "You make it sound like I'm Simon Legree or something because I expect a five day work week. Geez. I hardly ever ask anyone to work overtime or on the weekends. And when I do, it's not like I'm asking anyone to do something I'm not already doing. This isn't Disneyland, you know. We have a timetable we have to meet or we lose everything."

"Yes, Sam. You're right. Like I said...I'm talking about the same amount of time. Just a little more flex time."

"You're talking about creating a whole new schedule. No." Sam was adamant that he would not institute the change Al was asking for. He knew, without even consulting them, that the committee would not approve of it and they'd end up paying. On more than one occasion he'd been reminded that it was not a part of the project's outline to become as creative and loose with the taxpayer's money as possible. Weitzman would definitely find this plan of Al's just that.

"Like I said. Fine." Al was silent after that.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the car for several minutes. Eventually, it began to bother Sam and he broke it. "I'm not saying 'no' just to be some kind of hardass or something. We can't make changes like that. You should know as much as I do that it's a good way to get funding pulled. Besides, I haven't heard anyone complain."

"You don't think I know about funding issues? You think I'd bring this up if I didn't have a plan to put it in place?" It bothered Al that Sam seemed to be rejecting his idea outright without really giving the benefit of debate. "And excuse me, Sam, but you know...you aren't the easiest person to approach with complaints."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, a lot of people are in awe of you." Seeing Sam's face drop a bit, Al modified. "What do you expect? You were pegged as the 'next Einstein.' Still, once some people get to New Mexico they find the isolation a bit...problematic."

"That's not my fault and I've never done anything to put anyone in awe of me. I've always kept an open-door policy and I treat everyone as my equal. Are you trying to say I don't?"

"Of course not, Sam. But it sometimes doesn't matter what **you** do. What matters is the perception of the employee."

"So, what? I'm suddenly supposed to turn into...turn into the guy who pushes the button to make the teacups go?" He again fell back on his Disneyland analogy. "I told you, this isn't for fun and games and if anyone's unhappy with being in the desert, they're free to leave. I'd never keep anyone there against their will." He eyed Al speculatively. "Are you finding it problematic? Do you want to go somewhere else, 'cause I've never stopped you?"

"Me?" Al glanced over to his friend looking as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "Geez, Sam...don't you know? I'd never leave."

"Then why'd you make this some kind of big deal or is it that you think I'm too much of an incompetent director." Sam was becoming purposefully challenging now. He felt there were unspoken implications in what Al was saying that hit too close to home to everything that Harry had said. "Maybe you'd like that position and I can just be the good little scientist down in the lab. Is that what you want me to do?

"No," Al complained. "Are you just trying to be difficult, Sam? I'm not trying to start anything, I'm just pointing out some issues. Isn't that what you want me to do?

"Stop the car," Sam ordered. When Al didn't comply right away, he repeated himself in a very low voice. "Stop the damned car now."

"Fine." Al pulled to the side of the road. He couldn't understand why Sam would want him to stop literally in the middle of nowhere. Once the car was stopped...he turned and asked, "What?"

Sam didn't answer. Instead, opened the door and clumsily climbed out of the Jeep. He took a couple of limping steps away then stopped, head down.

Al got out of the car as well and moved towards Sam, not quite sure how close or far he should be from him. "Sam? You ok?"

"No, I'm not," the younger man answered honestly. "One minute you tell me that I shouldn't believe anything Harry said to me...how wrong he was then, you question any decision I make like I'm not competent to make a decision, basically tell me I'm wrong, and if I object to that, then I'm being difficult." Confusion, hurt and resignation were all heard in his voice. "What am I supposed to think?"

Al bit at his lip. This conversation wasn't supposed to generate these feelings in Sam. He just had wanted to have a typical and normal conversation. "You're supposed to think what your gut tells you to believe, Kid. You've got great instincts and you need to go with them. But...Sam...we're going to have differences in opinions. I'm not saying I'm right and I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm just hoping that we'll get back to being able to discuss stuff like this without..." He paused not sure how to continue but pushed forward, "without you second guessing yourself."

"You didn't do this before," Sam said softly. "When we disagreed, it never felt like you didn't think we were equals. That's how it feels right now…like you don't trust me to make a good choice."

Al closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how to answer that. He trusted Sam to make good choices but he knew that sometimes the kid didn't address things fully logically. No matter how things happened, Sam led with his heart as much as he was based firmly in scientific thought. Instead, he decided to go with one part of what Sam complained about. "Of course we're equals, Sam. We always have been. That why I want to talk this through."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, hitting his leg lightly with his closed fist. He was doing his utmost to keep his emotions reined in afraid that if he didn't, he'd completely melt down. "It doesn't feel that way and I can't change that. I can't change how I'm feeling." He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder at his friend. "I'm trying my best, Al. I really am. I know we can't always agree but sometimes...sometimes you just have to trust the decision I've made." He held up a hand to top Al from saying anything. "I'm not done." When he saw Al wasn't going to interrupt he continued, "I know we're not always going to agree and sometimes you should try to get me to see it your way but sometimes you really do need to just back off." He drew a deep breath and let it out knowing what he was going to say might hurt his friend's feelings. "When you just keep bludgeoning me trying to get me to agree with you, it does come across that you don't care what I think - that you're right and I'm wrong and that's it and it frustrates me."

"Ok," Al said simply, not wanting to antagonize Sam further. He paused a second. "I'm sorry if I pushed too hard, Kid."

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face as his frustration level rose once more. "No, Al. Don't apologize to me because you think you have to. Damn it! Don't you get it? I'm just asking you to treat me like you used to before.

"I thought I was," Al said in sudden confusion. "Right now, I just don't know what you want from me Sam. You want me to treat like I always have. Well, if I thought maybe you weren't giving me a fair hearing before; I'd try to make you understand my point. That's all I was doing."

"And what was different about the point you were trying to make between today and last week?" Sam didn't wait for the other man to answer. "Nothing. There was nothing different, that's what. This should have ended last week but instead I had to tell you I'd think about it just to get you to drop it. That never used to happen. Even after I explained my decision last week and again today, you just kept going." He took a slow breath using the time to order his thoughts to make his friend understand before continuing. "I want you to challenge me or question me when you think I'm making a mistake or if you have a better idea but sometimes, you just need to accept my decision and let it go before it devolves into some kind of shouting match. That's all I'm asking you to do."

Al reflected on what Sam was saying. If pressed to admit it, there were times in the last few months when he found it easier to pressure Sam into accepting his ideas. His friend's vulnerable emotional state probably had played into that. As frustrating as it was right now that Sam was pushing the issue, it was a small glimmer of hope that his friend was once again reaching a more level emotional state. For that, he should be happy. "Maybe you're right," he finally conceded. "Maybe I have been pushing you a little too much lately. If I have it's because I was concerned about you. I just wanted to make things as easy for you as I could. I guess I was just going about it the wrong way. I'm sorry, Kid, I really am."

This time, Sam didn't doubt his friend's apology. "I know, Al, and it's partly my fault too. I was letting you make decisions that I should have been making. I guess we were both being difficult this time." He offered his friend a small, tentative smile.

"Yeah, Kid," Al agreed. He was relieved that Sam's state of mind right now wasn't a result of the PTSD but because he really was acting his normal self. "I guess we can both do a pretty good impression of an ass."

"That's one way to put it," Sam said with a chuckle. "Now about this idea of yours. It's really not going to go over with Weitzman and the committee. Considering everything that went on with him a couple of months ago, do you think it would be wise to even try?"

Al had to concede that there was some truth in what Sam was saying. Antagonizing Weitzman at this stage of the game would not be the best idea. "I guess not. I was just trying to find a way to balance it out for these people – to make it worthwhile for them to move out to the desert."

"I know and I don't think that's a bad idea in and of itself. There's just got to be some other way." Sam went silent for a moment, staring out at the horizon. "How about…how about if we extend the work day by an hour Monday through Thursday and give everybody half days on Fridays?"

"That could work, Sam. It's something anyway."

"Ok, then. " He paused for awhile. "They don't think they can talk to me?" he asked. Sam had to admit, the personnel he'd brought on had been the top scientists. People that he felt a mental connection with. The rest, the front line people that did most of the administrative and day to day activities, Al had brought on. "Why? Why don't they think they can approach me?" The words were spoken with some angst.

Al sighed slightly. "They just don't know who you are. People make assumptions based on a lot of factors, Kid. A lot of times, that has nothing to do with the reality of the situation. I know you're one of the kindest and most fair individuals that ever walked the face of this earth for a long time." He glanced quickly over to Sam to see how he was taking his words and saw that Sam was about to brush off the praise. "Don't. What I'm saying is true, Kid. But most people don't take the time to get to know 'you.' They know the hype and they take some of your actions out of context because they don't know the context. Then they fill in the rest with whatever makes sense to them."

"But that's not what's real."

"No….it's not," Al conceded. "But, it's real to them and that's what matters…to them." Sam grew quiet glancing down at the ground. "I do my best to let the people on the project that don't know you understand the 'who' you really are. Some believe me and some don't. I'm sure that eventually, we'll continue to build our team. That takes time though. You can't know everything about a person based on a resume or an interview. You taught me that. In spades."

"I guess." Sam took a breath. "I still don't get why it's so hard for them to understand. I'm just a normal guy like they are."

"Where it counts, that's true. You're one of the most normal people I've even known. But again, if they don't know you, that's not what it looks like from the outside. From that point of view, you're pretty out of the ordinary." Sam again started to argue. "Sam, think about it. You won the Nobel Prize. How many people can say that? You have six doctorates. Some of these people don't even have associates, not that it matters for what they do. You played Carnegie Hall. Some of them don't even know what that means. They're brilliant in their own right but in their minds, you're so far removed from their day to day lives, they can't conceive of you being just a normal farm-raised, high-school jock. It just doesn't fit their pre-conceived notions."

"But…some of them have worked with us for years."

"And a lot of those are willing to accept the you they've learned to know. They tend to be your biggest advocates. Give it time, Kid. Either they learn that you're the neat guy you are or they don't and they'll fall by the wayside. Not everyone is cut out for this work."

"That sounds harsh, Al."

"Yeah, well….life's not always a bowl of cherries. Sometimes things can suck."

Sam smiled wryly at Al's succinct way of summing things up. "Tell me about it. I think the suck factor of life has shown itself more than usual in the past few years."

"You can say that again, Kid. Still, there have been some really good things as well. Don't forget that."

"You're right. 'There have been quite a few things that have gone pretty darned well."

"Yeah." He paused for a second. "You still want to go to Mr. Perez's and see Farkel, right?"

"If you don't mind. I really would like to see him."

"I don't mind at all, Sam." In truth, Al was pleased that Sam wanted to pay a visit with the horse. He'd noticed right from the moment they first met the animal how Sam had bonded with him. Not only bonded but somehow the horse seemed to work some kind of magic and make Sam forget about his cares and the strife he'd been through. "If we're ever going to make it there, though, we need to get back in the Jeep."

Sam nodded. The short conversation they'd had on the side of the road under the broad blue sky of New Mexico had been necessary but now that they'd had it, they did need to get going.

The two men got back in the vehicle and continued their drive back to Socorro. Although it was quieter, if wasn't the stress filled quiet but rather a time for both of them to think through their thoughts. Once they exited to Socorro, they stopped at the grocery store where they stocked up on the essentials that they'd need to make dinner as well as to pick up some treats for Farkel.

When they got to Mr. Perez's place, he was just getting back from having taken Farkel out for exercise. He greeted the men and they exchanged a little small talk as Sam followed him and the horse into the stable. Once Farkel was in his stall with his tack taken off, the physicist picked up the curry comb and began to brush the animal.

"I think you're in good hands, Farkel," Mr. Perez told the horse as he watched Sam meticulously groom the animal. We're both glad to see you. The two said their goodbyes before the Socorro native gestured for Al to come outside of the stable with him.

Seeing the gesture, Al started to follow the older man outside. "Hey, Sam, I'll be right back, ok."

"Sure thing, Al." Sam continued taking care of his horse.

Al was convinced that his friend hadn't really paid attention to what he'd said. He was more wrapped up on the horse. Al couldn't help the indulgent smile as he watched for just a few more seconds as Sam communed with the animal. He'd noticed all of the tension had drained right out of the younger man's body as soon as he was in the horse's presence.

Leaving Sam to his "animal therapy", Al followed Mr. Perez outside. "Something up?" he asked the older man once they were outside and out of Sam's hearing.

"I was just wondering what happened to Sam's leg." The man eyed the cast on Al's arm and added, "and your arm."

Al considered how to explain what had transpired in Hawaii to the man but realized there was no way to do it without sounding crazy. Instead he settled for saying, "It's a long a bizarre story that you probably wouldn't believe anyway."

Knowing the penchant the two men had for getting into unique situations, Mr. Perez didn't push for more of an explanation. "Well, ok," he said hesitantly. "As long as you're both going to be ok."

"We'll be right as rain in no time," Al assured. He stayed outside the stable for another fifteen minutes or so talking with Mr. Perez before going back in to check on Sam.

Sam had finished brushing the horse and was now feeding him an apple out of his palm.

Standing back, the older man noticed that Sam looked somehow younger as he interacted with the horse. He considered the same thing tended to happen when Sam was sleeping. He smiled. The kid certainly didn't need any more stress for a while.

The horse continued to nuzzle the younger man. "Best money I ever spent," Al said to himself. The horse must have heard him because there was a whinny and acknowledgement by the horse of his presence.

"Oh, hi Al," Sam said as he followed the horse's gaze. "I thought you were still with Mr. Perez. I didn't hear you come in."

"No, I wouldn't imagine you would. Farkel's obviously happy to see you."

"Well, it goes both ways. Mr. Perez takes good care of him but I really enjoy being with him. Sort of reminds me of simpler days back on the farm."

"Yeah. I can see how that could happen," Al answered aloud. Internally, he couldn't help but note that if Sam had chosen to follow farming as a vocation, he wouldn't have faced the types of challenges that had been thrown at him the last few years. "You ever wish you'd stayed on the farm, Sam?"

There was no hesitation on Sam's part before he answered. "No. I know that wasn't the life I was meant for." Seeing the questioning look on his friend's face, he went on to explain, "Sometimes I feel like should have for my family but…I don't know that I'd have been happier. Even…" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Even with everything that's happened, somehow I know I'm doing what I was meant to do. You know?"

Al approached Sam and squeezed his shoulder gently. "Yeah, Kid. I think I know exactly what you mean. Some things are just meant to be and this project and you…that's one of those things."

Sam glanced down briefly then lifted his head smiling at Al knowing his friend understood him so well. He gave one last pat to the horse then reached for the crutches he'd leaned against the wall. "Let's get home, Al. It's time I got on with what I'm supposed to be doing."

The two men exited the barn and walked to the Jeep. As they did, Al felt like there was a bit more spring in his step. He knew that the road Sam and he were traveling on was far from smooth but he felt like, together, they'd taken a few more steps together on that journey Sam had spoken of when they'd first come back from Idaho. Each step they took would bring them one step further to their goals and Sam's dreams and as long as he had anything to say about it, his friend would see his dream become a reality.


End file.
